


The Portrait of Youth

by johnyongclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Dorian Gray AU, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, This is quite dark, manitoproject, orion2900
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnyongclub/pseuds/johnyongclub
Summary: Taeyong frowns, turning back around to look at his own face. “A wish?”“Just a wish, Taeyong.” Johnny whispers, his arms back around Taeyong, this time with a kiss to the top of his head. “If you want it bad enough, it will happen.”
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73
Collections: Johnyong Manito Project Round 1





	The Portrait of Youth

**Author's Note:**

> this is for prompt #JNYG030
> 
> "dorian gray au; naive young model Taeyong gets seduced into a life of decadence by a hedonistic high profile photographer Johnny"
> 
> this fic falls under a dark category so I will be leaving a list of possible trigger warnings. **PLEASE READ** before you proceed;
> 
> —murder and violence  
>  — blood is mentioned a lot  
>  — graphic scenes  
>  — sex scenes may be disturbing  
>  — mentions of dieting (?)  
>  — alcohol  
>  — toxic behaviors  
>  — fire
> 
> this fic is set at a future time and johnny is a couple years older
> 
> on another note, this is **RPF** , meaning it is based off but do not represent them in real life. Characteristics are also tweaked and differ from these real people. This work is pure fiction.
> 
> last but not least, I hope the prompter is happy with this fic and I'm sorry if it doesn't meet expectations :(

The sentiment is peculiar, to stand at the very top and watch the city that was once his crumble into nothing, to watch it disappear into oblivion, never to be seen again. The worst part of it all is knowing that it is still there, the streets and the buildings and the people that breathed and laughed and fought on the concrete that makes the roads and pathways. Yet he stands here, empty, nothing but a shell.

How long has it been since he first saw it rise? It feels like a century ago when he had first stepped into this very city, young and afraid but also excited, motivated, hopeful. The price he would pay to go back in time, to live the same day and take a different path. Perhaps, Taeyong thinks, he wouldn’t be here today. Perhaps he would be happy, perhaps he would be more than just a void. 

Perhaps his life would have meaning.

It’s all too late now. He’s all alone.

Taeyong sniffles, downing the sixth glass of vodka he’s had since the moment he’d woken up today. His heart is heavy and eyes red from the hours he had spent crying to sleep. The house is too empty, too quiet, too old. He shakily pours another glass, unable to stop himself from releasing a sob, his expression morphing into one of pain as he starts to cry again, stopped only as he throws his head back and swallows the seventh glass. In the end, he abandons the glass and drinks straight from the bottle.

“What is the point?” He finds himself asking aloud, finding the framed picture of himself and the man he would die for lined above the fireplace, staring back at him. “What’s the point?”

He breaks into another series of sobs, empty bottle falling onto the carpeted floor as he hangs his head onto the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking. He cries so hard his nose is stuffed and it’s hard to breathe, his chest heaving, hurting. When he lifts his head to wipe at his cheeks, his head spins so he leans back and stares up at the ceiling, lets his tears fall down his temples instead.

Closing his eyes, he thinks about all those years ago, when things were simple and right and he was happy and carefree. Thirty years it had been since then; thirty long, miserable years.

Granted, he’s had good times in these three decades. He had good company, he had money, he had love. He  _ had _ love, he knows that. He was in love. The kind of love that was never truly satisfying, the kind that keeps him wanting more. He was hungry for love, desperate for it, almost as hungry as he was for everything else that used to make him happy. And he had it, Taeyong thinks. He’s had it all once upon a time and he had someone to love who loved him back. 

He had it all.

He’d lost it all. 

His eyes open slowly, wishing it had been a dream. The long abandoned mansion is no longer his home but it’s the home he remembered, back when it was not dead, back when it had life. He lifts his head, heavy with alcohol, to take a good look around the brown walls and the yellow lights. It feels like the last time he would see it. With another sniff, Taeyong rises to his feet and nearly stumbles as he makes his way to the main hall. 

There, the single portrait of his face hung upon the wall, stares back at him, mocking. It’s a photograph of himself from his chest above, a little quirk at the corner of his lips to resemble a smile. His hair was black, his eyes brighter. He remembers the day it was taken as clear as if it was taken just yesterday. He was happy then, he remembers that. He remembers his youthful beauty captured within that single frame, now gone to rot, as if someone had marred his skin in the portrait.

Anger rises in his chest in rapid waves; it was his obsession that has gotten him here, his naivety and his foolishness that cost him his happiness. If he had not made that wish, if he had just  _ listened _ … If he had listened, maybe everything would have been okay. 

With a cry out of pure frustration and anger, Taeyong grabs the nearest vase and flings it against the portrait, watches as it crashes and falls in pieces upon the floor. It seems to have taken all of his energy because with it, Taeyong falls onto his knees as he breaks into another fit of tears. The sadness that blankets him is beyond removable, etched too deep within his skin to wash away.

No matter how much he cries, it would never bring him back what he’d lost. It would never bring back Doyoung and it certainly would never bring back Johnny. Oh,  _ Johnny _ . His one true love; the only one he would kill for, die for. The only one whose love he had craved so much, the only one he had wanted to be painted underneath his skin so they could be together forever.

Everything about his own existence reminds him of Johnny, from this own hair to his fingers and this house and this fucking portrait. Everything is  _ Johnny _ . 

How long has it been since he was lost? How long has it been since he was all alone? Taeyong tries to remember but it’s hard. His mind is fogged with nothing but darkness and as he brings himself to lie down upon the floor, he turns his head enough to watch his own portrait stare down at him. 

A stark reminder of all his mistakes, of all his sins.

He’s exhausted. He hasn’t slept well for a long, long time. He misses his mother, his father. He misses his friends back home and everyone else, even though they never believed in him. He misses Johnny. It doesn’t matter now, he thinks as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. It’s all too late.

* * *

The city is bright, Taeyong notices first as the train rolls into the new atmosphere, carrying him from the rural area of the country and into the very place where everyone else had known success. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment he had stepped out of his house, where Doyoung had waited and he had smiled all the way to the train station, when he settled in his seat to this very moment, as the train stops at its final station. This is where his life would start, Taeyong thinks. He had waited forever.

With haste, he is the first to slip out of his seat to grab his bags, all four of them, ignoring Doyoung and leaving him behind as he makes his way to the exit door. Doyoung is nagging, as he always is, the kind of noise Taeyong has gotten used to tuning out over the years. He adores him, clearly, and he’s glad he isn’t alone out here in the city but god, Taeyong wishes he would shut up for once.

The station is packed, just like his father had mentioned before he left. It is summer, his father had said. In the summer, everyone goes to the city. In the summer, his chances are higher.

Chances for what, one might ask? Taeyong has known what he wanted to be his entire life. He was seven when he realized he wanted to be on the covers of magazines, making headlines and making money, known for his beauty and grace and perfection. He had grown up making sure he has everything he needs to be a model; a healthy lifestyle, a flawless skin, a tiny waist and a face that would make every head in the room turn to look. He has it, he knows he does. 

He is just one step away from making his dreams come true.

As he makes his way through the crowd, two bags on his shoulders and another two in each hand, Taeyong glances up at the giant clock, reading nearly nine in the morning. He’d intended to go to the open event that’s rumoured to have recruiters wandering around in disguise, picking up random potentials and making them into huge stars, usually starting out with a modelling career.

“Where did you say the hotel is again?” Doyoung asks, panting as he finally catches up with Taeyong.

“Motel, Doyoung,” He corrects his best friend, a smile still etched upon his lips. “We can’t afford a hotel. Not yet, anyway. It should be really close. We could walk.”

Doyoung makes a little noise under his breath. “Okay, but can we get a drink first? Food, maybe?”

Taeyong scrunches up his nose. “We can grab something on the way. But we have to be quick, I want to be there on time before it’s too late.”

Begrudgingly, Doyoung follows as Taeyong leads the way. The motel, he vaguely recalls as Moon Motel, is said to only be a ten minute walk from the station. One would think that after hundreds of years since the first creation of mobile phones,  _ someone _ had the smarts to make some kind of photographic memory chip. Taeyong thinks that would help him a lot, especially now, as he tries to remember what Moon Motel looks like in the pictures on the internet.

The ten minutes turn out to be twenty and Doyoung is already complaining, muttering curse words when Taeyong finally spots the building. It’s only one level, rows of rooms a normal motel would look like in the west. The welcome sign is glitching neon words reading ‘Moon Motel’ in all caps, despite the fact that it is nine-thirty in the morning with the sun up and bright.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks into the main office, where he finds a man about his age seated behind the counter. His badge is upside down, reading the name  _ Taeil _ and he smiles when he spots Taeyong approaching. He doesn’t say anything as Taeyong asks for a room, taking his ID card and then telling him the price before he gives the key to him. 

Without another word, Taeyong leaves the main office and starts his way to their booked room. Doyoung munches on a bread he’d gotten on their way here, following silently, for once, thanks to that piece of pastry. Once inside, Taeyong is quick to throw his bags on his bed before digging into one for the outfit he’d planned to wear for the event, gasping when he finds it too crumpled to wear.

“Doie,” He calls after his friend, who, unlike him, is slowly unpacking his bags. “Doie, tell me how much time we have til the event starts?”

Doyoung hums, “What time does it start again?”

“Eleven a.m.”

“We got twenty minutes.”

Taeyong properly panics, rushing over to the ironing board and iron that came with the room and quickly ironing his clothes so he could look decent and not unprepared. This isn’t how it was supposed to be; he was supposed to be pretty and ready and  _ early _ , more than anything. Now they’ve got only twenty minutes left and the event isn’t just another ten minute walk. 

He rushes through the process of ironing his clothes, deeming them good enough before he puts it on. He’d taken a shower in the train so he only needed to wash his face before he has to put his make up on. Over the skin tight jeans he’s wearing, Taeyong pulls on a lace sleeveless, topping it with a pair of black blazer to match. He’d kept his hair black growing up, so it sits healthy and silky on his head. 

Doing his hair in a simple ‘do, Taeyong works on his makeup. He doesn’t overdo this either besides the glitter eyeshadow, subtle but enough to see, highlights to enhance his cheekbones and nose and a glossy lip gloss to bring life to his lips. When he was finally done, Doyoung says they’re five minutes late.

He doesn’t have much cash but he decides spending some of it to grab a cab so they could make it there without missing it entirely would be worth it. 

He’d make it, he thinks. When his life begins, he wouldn’t have to worry about cash anymore.

* * *

Everyone at the event looks marvellously gorgeous. So gorgeous Taeyong’s confidence dropped the moment he stepped out of the car and into the venue. He’s dressed so simply and every other human being there came with glamor and class, born to be featuring in magazines. For a moment, he considers turning back and going home.

It’s just that he’d come so far, quite literally so. He had spent his entire childhood dreaming of this moment and thereafter. To abandon it now would be so pathetic and sad. He had never been a quitter; there is no reason for that to change now, even though the chances of him ever getting recruited is slim to none. Everyone else had just stolen his opportunities.

Everywhere he turns, Taeyong finds a well-dressed individual. Some of them friendly, but others look at him as if he’d just eaten their last piece of chocolate cookie. Doyoung simply follows, in awe at everything he sees and at the same time enjoying the finger foods they offered. 

He had lost his appetite, clearly and avoided the food but picking up a glass of champagne when offered. He’d never been a fan of alcohol but he drinks it to fit in. Right now, he thinks he actually needed some alcohol in his system, if only it means he could feel better about being so underdressed.

“This is bad, Doie,” He says once they stopped roaming around to take a little breather. “Look at me. It’s like I’m not even trying. I don’t stand a chance.”

Doyoung frowns, swallowing the last piece of mini éclair he had in his hand. “What are you talking about? You’re the best looking here.”

Taeyong stares at him with dead eyes. “You’re biased. I’m your friend so obviously you’d think that. I’m not even as fancy as that photographer there! How am I ever going to get picked?”

“Listen,” Doyoung starts, wearing that same, old expression on his face whenever he’s about to tell Taeyong to believe in himself. “Believe in yourself. You’re doing great. I’m sure someone will come by when you least expect it.”

Just then, a guy with a camera in his hand approaches them with a friendly smile. “Okay if I take a couple shots of you two?”

Doyoung is quick to step away. “Oh, no, no. Not me. Just my friend here.”

The photographer smiles, nodding before he gestures for Taeyong to pose for his camera. He’s a little stunned at first but a single look at Doyoung’s encouraging smile is enough to remind him why he’s here. Quickly, Taeyong shifts into his modelling headspace, one that he’s practiced on since he was much younger. He strikes multiple different poses, basking in the flashlights coming from the guy’s camera. 

By the time he was done and the stranger thanks him for his time, Taeyong feels a million times better. He’s grinning as Doyoung steps closer, squealing a little bit and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Doyoung takes his moment to tell him ‘I told you so’, which he ignores, though only because he’s known Doyoung for years and years and it isn’t the first time he’d said those exact words.

He’s certain there’s a wide grin etched upon his lips, so much that his cheeks are beginning to hurt. There’s nothing better than feeling as though his faith had been restored. A minute ago, it had felt like all his hopes and dreams might be gone to waste but now…? Now Taeyong feels rejuvenated.

“Excuse me?” A voice calls out from behind him, just close enough for him to know it was meant for him instead of someone else.

He turns around to find another man, dyed red hair done up in a messy bun and he looks to be about Taeyong’s age as well. He’s smiling as he pockets his phone. Taeyong returns the smile, offering his hand for a greeting. “Hi. I’m Taeyong.”

The man’s smile widens, “I’m Yuta. Listen, I couldn’t help but notice the little shoot you had with the photographer. Is there any chance that you’re looking to be recruited?”

At this, Taeyong’s first instinct is to look at Doyoung, whose eyes widen as he nods encouragingly. Taeyong nods his head, “Yes. Yes, I definitely am. Did you think I did well?”

“I thought you were beautiful,” Yuta says. For a moment, he looks a little dazed, but then he’s quickly reaching into his pocket and retrieving a name card. “I work for Johnny Suh, and if you’re not so sure, he’s a high profile photographer not only in the city but –”

“Abroad, too,” Taeyong finishes his sentence. But of course he would recognize the name anywhere; Taeyong’s dream of becoming a model was not just a phase. He’d learned everything there is to know in the industry and Johnny Suh isn’t a name one interested in this line of work wouldn’t know. His heart is beating so hard and so fast. This feels like a dream. “You work for Johnny Suh?”

Yuta laughs, nodding. “Yes, Mr. Suh himself. Of course you’d know who he is. Well, as you would know, he runs an agency that’s looking into recruiting more talents. I’ve done this a lot of times to know you have the full potential to, Taeyong.”

“Oh my god,” Taeyong laughs a little nervously, happy and excited and nervous all at the same time. “Thank you. That is such a compliment coming from you.”

The red-haired man’s smile widens, finally handing the name card over to Taeyong. On it, the name reads Nakamoto Yuta, followed by the company name as well as a personal phone number and company number. “There’s a party tomorrow night at the Merindah. Mr. Suh’s looking forward to meet potentials so it’d give you a higher chance if you’re there. Think it over, and once you’ve decided, you know which number to call me.”

With that, Yuta dips his head in a little bow before he walks away. Taeyong watches him until he’s gone, his card held gently in his hands and he feels as though the fates have finally come together to make him happy.

“Taeyong?” 

Doyoung’s voice snaps him out of his daze and he turns around to break out into cheerful squeals complete with little bounces on his feet, unable to comprehend and express the happiness and excitement he’s currently overwhelmed with. “Doyoung, everything is just the way I want it to be!”

His best friend is grinning, laughing when Taeyong pulls him into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you, Taeyong. You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard.”

Hearing Doyoung say so makes Taeyong emotional and even though his smile remains, he couldn’t help the way his eyes teared up with unshed tears. They share another embrace, long and hard, speaking words that are unspoken, and ‘thank you’s that Taeyong thinks he could say later.

When they finally pulled away, he looks down at the card again, filled with confidence and a new-found hope. “I’m going to be a star, Doyoung. You’ll see.”

* * *

Clearly, Taeyong didn’t expect Doyoung to have a last minute change of mind on a decision he didn’t have to make. Taeyong had obviously contacted Yuta before he slept the night before to let him know that he would be at the party and Doyoung had agreed. So why is it that he chooses now, three hours before Taeyong has to leave, to tell him that he’s suddenly concerned over Taeyong’s safety?

He’s frustrated with Doyoung’s tendency to act like a parent. As much as he’d loved the fact that he is here with Doyoung, one of the reasons he couldn’t wait to leave the town was so that he could finally live freely; free of rules, of parents, of judgmental neighbours who always thought he wouldn’t make it. Now that he’s here, free at last, the last thing he needs is Doyoung caging him.

Seated now at the cheap vanity in the motel, Taeyong leans close to focus on perfecting his eyeshadow. He has his hair pinned back to keep them out of the way, eyebrows done and nearly finished with his makeup. Doyoung’s in his bed, reluctantly picking out clothes to wear to the party.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too easy?” Doyoung speaks up after a long moment of silence, prompting Taeyong to raise a single eyebrow in question, knowing Doyoung could see him through the mirror. “I mean, like, we were here one day and now you’re possibly already on the way to signing a contract?”

Taeyong turns around in his seat but only after he was done with his eye makeup. “What are you saying, Doie? Are you telling me I’m not at that certain level where things would be easy?”

“No,” Doyoung shakes his head quickly. “I’m not saying that. I’m just worried, you know? Your parents and mine always warned us how people could be out here in the city.”

He rolls his eyes with a sigh, quickly putting on lip gloss before keeping his things in his makeup bag. “You worry too much, Doyoung. It’ll be fine. And honestly, I don’t really care. I don’t care what it takes for me to make my dreams come true.”

Doyoung watches him closely. “You mean as long as it’s safe for you, right?”

“Doyoung,” Taeyong rises to his feet, placing the bag on his bed before he picks up the clothes he’d prepared for the party. “I said I don’t care. I won’t go back to our town. Not until I prove to all of them that I’ve done it. I made it. I’d even sleep with anyone who could get me the job.”

“Taeyong!”

“What?!”

His best friend looks mortified, beyond surprised, certainly and Taeyong tries not to let it hurt him that his own best friend wouldn’t understand. The look on his face alone is enough to tell Taeyong how much he’s being judged now. He doesn’t think there is anything wrong with the way he thinks it will all work. It is his body, and if his body helps him reach goals he had only ever dreamed about, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. But of course, their similarities had limits, and this is where it stops.

“I didn’t think you’d go to that length,” Doyoung says quietly. “That’s below you, Taeyong.”

Taeyong scoffs, turning away from his friend so he could begin getting into his clothes. He wouldn’t deny that he’s hurt but if Doyoung couldn’t support him then he has nothing else to say. He’s in a little disarray now, distracted from his flow as he considers putting on his clothes and fixing his hair. Eventually, Taeyong managed to slip into the outfit before he finally goes to make sure his dark strands sit perfectly on his head, a mob of soft hair he considers one of his best features.

“Taeyong – ”

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Doyoung. You came here to support me, not to make me feel like shit. But congratulations,” He turns to look at his best friend. “You’ve done exactly that.”

Doyoung sighs but Taeyong ignores him in favour of rubbing scented oil on the inside of his wrists and behind his ears. From the corner of his eyes, Doyoung quickly gets into his clothes, wordlessly putting on his shoes and then following Taeyong outside, where he’s already waiting for the cab he had Taeil call for them earlier. He ignores Doyoung on their ride over, determined to have a good night and not have his supposed best friend ruin it for him.

* * *

The party is, as one would expect, top tier. Its elegance is one that amazes Taeyong, as he enters the venue and drinks in the sight of the interior. The Merindah Hotel is known for its class and name, making it the most expensive accommodation in the country and from his research, it’s even branched out to different parts of the world. To even be standing on the polished floors of the ballroom makes him feel accomplished. He’d even momentarily forgotten his anger towards Doyoung.

Unlike the day before, Taeyong feels good under his own skin, confident that he didn’t overdress or underdress. Most of the people are dressed formally and while he isn’t certain what kind of party this is, he knows enough to know everyone here has something to do with the fashion industry. He’s glad he’d chosen to wear a simple fit that still shows off his great sense of style; a pastel purple turtleneck with a pair of black and white wool coat to match, his pants black and skin tight, hugging his legs the way he likes it to. 

He’d lost Doyoung along the way but he couldn’t bring himself to care, enjoying the champagne he was offered and striking a conversation with anyone who would spare him a glance. It’s a lot of people, for sure; he’s pretty confident that he looks decent enough to be turning heads. 

Ah, what a dream come true.

Yuta finds him not too long after, with a smile on his face and his dyed red hair put up in a neater bun. He looks just as fashionable himself; one would think he’d be a model instead of Johnny Suh’s assistant.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Yuta is saying. “My schedule was rather packed today, though that’s no excuse. I do apologize. Did you come alone?”

Taeyong quickly shakes his head. “No, I came with my friend. It’s really okay, though. It’s been good so far. I’d hate to add to your plate, though, Yuta. It’s quite alright.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Well, Mr. Suh is already here and he knows I’ve invited you so he’ll be sure to find you sooner than later.”

His lips part and forms a tiny ‘o’. “Oh, why don’t I go find him instead?”

Yuta laughs, shaking his head. “No one finds Johnny, Taeyong. You’ll be sure to keep that in mind now. He finds us, we don’t find him. Don’t worry, though. He’ll find you. In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy yourselves? Not too many of this champagne or your interview won’t go so well.”

With a pat to his shoulder, Yuta walks off, seemingly busy with whatever else that is in his schedule. Taeyong feels his confidence deplete just a little bit, nervous that this Mr. Suh won’t actually find him and that Doyoung was right all along. How humiliating would that be?

Still, Taeyong tries to trust Yuta, though he does abandon the glass of champagne on the table before he goes to return to his conversations with the other party guests. He’s already remembered at least five of them by name by the time he realizes that Johnny won’t actually hire him. 

He sighs, feeling a little dejected as he finally decides to feed his rumbling stomach some food it had been screaming at him for. It’s as he takes a bite of a finger food that he feels the flash of a camera, prompting him to look up as he chews, finding a familiar pair of eyes behind the camera that was held at eyelevel to capture an image of him  _ eating _ . Taeyong nearly chokes.

“Fuck!” He chokes out as he coughs, quickly grabbing a glass of champagne to wash down the food that’s stuck in his throat, making a complete fool of himself before he turns to face the stranger. 

Well, not a stranger, per se, but this would be the first time Taeyong has ever seen him in person. There, with a camera in hand and an amused smile on his face, stood Johnny Suh. The same Johnny Suh he has read about countless times, whose work amazes him without fail, whose modelling agency might just hire him, if he was lucky. Of course he had to choke on a cheese stick for a first impression.

That aside, however, Taeyong thinks he’d never seen a man so beautiful. Johnny looks like art himself, even though he isn’t dressed too formally; a dark blue blazer over a simple white tee underneath, his black hair slicked back. He’d seen this man in pictures and on TV, whenever they would interview him for his new work, the exhibitions he’d displayed that never failed to awe the people.

Yet right now, Taeyong is standing right in front of him and clearly not paying attention, because Johnny’s mouth moves but all Taeyong could feel is the way his heart is beating so, so loudly, so fast against his chest. He only realizes Johnny is talking when the taller man leans a little closer. 

“Taeyong, am I right?”

Taeyong blinks before his head moves, nodding. “Yes. Yes, that’s me. I’m Taeyong.”

“I hope you didn’t mind me snapping a picture of you,” Johnny says then, his smile remaining kind and free of judgment as he takes another step closer. “Yuta did mention you were pretty, I had to see it for myself, though.”

Warmth spreads across both Taeyong’s cheeks and his chest. “And your verdict?”

“Yuta was never good with words,” Johnny supplies, and Taeyong doesn’t realize how much closer he is until he could feel his warmth breath against his cheek. “Pretty isn’t the word I would use.”

It’s hard enough to even believe that he is in the Merindah Hotel, standing face to face with  _ the _ Johnny Suh, let alone to believe that the very same Johnny Suh is actually flirting with him. Does it matter? It is happening and he knows he isn’t dreaming. Everything just feels right, like he’s in the right place, at the right time, with the right person. Nothing else matters.

“Am I not pretty then, Mr. Suh?”

Johnny’s smile isn’t as warm but curled almost like a smirk, subtle enough for Taeyong to doubt it. “Pretty is mediocre, Taeyong. You don’t want to just be pretty, do you? You want beauty, you want youth, you want power. And you already have all of that.”

There is something about the way Johnny had put it, something that feels like realization, an awakening. Pretty is good, pretty is nice. He had always been that; pretty. If Johnny thinks he has more than just a pretty face without even knowing him, Taeyong wonders what else Johnny would see in him. As of this moment, he couldn’t think of anyone who’s had more faith in him, even if it’s too soon to say.

“I do?” He asks still, his voice soft, feeling somewhat open and see-through.

Johnny gives him a single nod of his head, offering him his hand. “Let me show you something, if you may.”

Taeyong doesn’t hesitate as he places his hand into Johnny’s proffered one, following his lead as they move towards one of the photographs exhibited on the wall. Framed within golden intricate lines is a portrait of a young woman. Beneath it, Taeyong reads the credited work named after Johnny Suh. He’d seen this when he entered the ballroom but in his time conversing with the others, he hadn’t thought to take a look at the framed photos and paintings decorating the walls.

“This is an example,” Johnny says then, letting go of Taeyong’s hand and he watches as the photographer retrieves a single cigarette from the inner pocket of his blazer, lighting it up. For a moment, he wonders if it was alright to be smoking within the ballroom but he’s quickly reminded that Johnny isn’t just a mere guest. The taller male continues, “Tell me what you see in this picture.”

Is this some kind of test? Taeyong wrecks his brain to think; he’d never looked into what stories pictures could tell and he wonders if Johnny would send him home if he fails this one. He stares at the portrait, at empty eyes and a barely there smile, at fair skin darkened with the shadows the sun casted upon it. 

“Innocence,” He says softly, the first word that comes to mind. He continues to look at the portrait, tries to see more beyond the purity of that nervous simper. There is something off about those cold, dead eyes, a stark contrast to the way the muse had carried herself. “Was she sad?”

“Not quite,” Johnny shakes his head, taking a puff of cigarette and Taeyong watches as smoke billows all around them when he speaks again. “She was happy. I was sixteen, had my first camera and I wanted my first picture to be her. It’s the eyes, isn’t it? Do you see it?”

Taeyong nods slowly, intrigued. “She has dead eyes.”

Johnny lets out a noise akin to a chuckle, a smile stretched at his lips. “Dead person, dead eyes.”

The gasp that leaves Taeyong is prominent, guilty and sorry at the same time. They both don’t share a word and he thinks the right way to react is to be afraid by how much Johnny is telling him but all Taeyong feels is fascination. “Was she your girlfriend?”

“My sister,” Johnny says easily, inhaling another puff of the stick between his fingers. “Gone too soon. My point is, a picture holds a thousand words but it’s the obvious that tells you the present story. Eyes, posture, these expressions they hold back to keep a smile. They all have stories and each one different. My sister was happy when I took this picture, she’d just celebrated her eighteenth birthday and mama bought her a new car. When she died, her picture died with her. It was not her story then but it is her story now.”

Taeyong, even in his interest to know more, wonders why exact Johnny had shown him this. They had just met five minutes ago and there is no way Johnny could have known anything about Taeyong, seeing as he hadn’t submitted any kind of documents that would contain his personal information. Noticing his silence, Johnny turns his head to look at him, cigarette between his smiling lips as he speaks again.

“What do you want your story to be?”

* * *

  
  


Despite everything, Taeyong and Doyoung made up after the younger boy apologised for his words and promised to do better in supporting Taeyong, even though he didn’t miss the slight twitch on Doyoung’s lips when he’s told that Taeyong had agreed to meet Johnny in his office.

The night at the party had gone pretty well, in Taeyong’s opinion. Contrary to popular belief (Doyoung), he did not end up warming Johnny’s bed, even though he thinks he wouldn’t be completely opposed to it if the opportunity presented itself. They had simply talked over more champagne, laughed over shared experiences and flirted through the entire time the party went on. It was a good time. 

It didn’t surprise him when Johnny then invited him to a private meeting at his office in his building, especially after Taeyong sent him an email of his portfolio, and it one way or another gave Taeyong a sense of security when it comes to his career path. If Johnny enjoys him, Taeyong has no doubt that he would be joining the agency soon. How many of the boys like him could say they’ve worked for Johnny Suh, let alone be given the time and opportunity to spend an entire night talking and flirting with the big man? 

The excitement he feels is something beyond explainable. He’s filled with wave after wave of motivation and will, happy that things are going the way he had wanted it to and by the time the weekend was over, he found himself eager to meet Johnny in his office.

Doyoung clearly isn’t too happy about it but Taeyong has long learned to ignore what his friend thinks, if whatever his opinion is would only bring him down. 

Johnny’s building isn’t too far from The Merindah, and instead of having to call for a cab, Johnny had made sure to send someone to fetch Taeyong from the motel. The ride over was smoother than it was when he travelled to the party. Granted, the tension with Doyoung was thick that night and now Doyoung is back at the motel and Taeyong’s on his way to probably sign a contract.

The thought of it alone makes the buzzing under his skin grow tenfold. There’s a skip to his steps as he makes his way into the building and then up to the top floor, where Johnny said his office would be. It isn’t hard to find, being the only room at the highest floor of the thirty-two storey building. When he steps out of the elevator, there’s a lounge and then a door to what he assumes would be Johnny’s office. 

He clears his throat then, a little nervous as he makes sure to fix his hair, ruffling up his fringe so it doesn’t look too stiff or messy. He’d dressed simply too, just enough to remind Johnny of the boy he’d met at the party. It’s quiet save for the soft thrum of music playing from the speakers in the lounge, a cozy little space Taeyong thinks he would actually love spending his time at.

With three knocks upon the door, Taeyong waits until it opens and Johnny greets him with a warm smile, his black hair slicked back loosely, enough to leave a few strands falling over his eyebrow. For some unknown reasons, Johnny looks even more handsome than he did the last time they saw each other and in that brief moment, Taeyong’s star-struck into silence.

It’s hard to explain the roller coaster of emotions going through his entire being but it’s set aside when Johnny lets out a low chuckle as he closes the door of his office, allowing Taeyong a brief glance of the inside before he’s led to the lounge, where Johnny gestures for him to take a seat.

“Whiskey?” Johnny offers and when Taeyong’s nose scrunches up, he laughs. “Nothing too strong then? How about wine? I’m sure I have a bottle or two.”

Taeyong smiles as he takes a seat on the maroon velvet chaise, “Wine would be great, Mr. Suh.”

“Please,” Johnny starts, going over to pour himself a glass of whiskey and then wine for Taeyong before he places the glasses down and takes a seat next to him. “Just call me Johnny, everyone else does.”

“Johnny,” Taeyong corrects himself. 

The taller smiles then, and like before, he retrieves a box of cigarettes and takes one out before he lights it, taking a puff or two. “I’ll get to the point, Taeyong. I know you’re here to sign a contract with the company and personally, that’s more than okay for me.”

Taeyong waits as Johnny takes another puff, leaning back against the backrest with his thighs spread comfortably, an arm raised to rest over the back of the chaise as his free hand goes to pluck the cigarette from between his lips. Smoke billows over them as he speaks again, “You’re full of potential, anyone with eyes can see that. And you clearly want it badly, if you travelled all the way to the city to see it come true. I can provide that for you.”

“But?” Taeyong prompts, head tilted just a little as he questions the man. 

“Well,” Another puff, smoke, then Johnny picks up his glass to down his whiskey, clicking his tongue as he places the glass down for a refill. “I think you could be more than just a contract, Taeyong. There’s so much you can do. It’s the year 2880, you’re beautiful, more than most. You can be more than just an employee.”

Taeyong’s brows knit together into a frown, a little confused. “What are you proposing?”

The corner of Johnny’s mouth quirks up into a small smirk and Taeyong watches as he stands up with his drink and, like at the party, offers his hand. Taeyong doesn’t hesitate to take it. He leads Taeyong towards the wall-size windows of the lounge, holds onto his hand a second longer than he should before he lets go and sighs, staring out below, where the city streets are busy with people of all backgrounds, all of them going about their day. It’s a pretty view, especially from this high up.

“I’ve read somewhere that it looks exactly like this eight hundred years ago,” Johnny starts to speak, inhaling his lit cigarette deeply, his eyes faraway as if he isn’t truly in the present. “And back then, everyone thought they wouldn’t make it, but here we are.”

Taeyong listens and he doesn’t let himself think, only listen. It’s something he thinks he’s good at, listening, the one thing his parents taught that he keeps with him growing up. Listening gets tiring when the other party doesn’t do the same when he tries to speak, but still, he listens.

Johnny finishes off his second glass of alcohol before tossing the butt of the cigarette into it after a long and deep inhale. When he breathes out, more smoke swirls around him, a sight to behold. He looks like an art piece he swears he’d seen before during one of the school trips to the museum. His face is beautifully structured, lips plump and pink, his features chiselled, almost as if he could be the model instead. Taeyong feels just a little mesmerized, heart stammering against his chest.

“I’ve seen the world, Taeyong,” Johnny continues, “I built this empire all on my own and in the process, I got to see what’s out there. And it’s not pretty, it’s not all glory. Things might have stayed the same here in the city, in this country, but out there the change is drastic.”

Taeyong’s frown deepens and his eyes remained on Johnny. “What are you saying, Johnny?”

Finally, Johnny turns to meet his gaze. His eyes are bright and alive, like there’s a fire within him waiting to eat him whole. Taeyong feels nothing but that magnetic pull towards the other like he’s never felt before. “I’ll cut to the chase, Taeyong. You fascinate me. You have fascinated me from that the first time I laid eyes on you at the party. I think we can have more than just professional relationship. And you’re an open book, I see right through you.”

“You do?” Taeyong finds himself asking, cheeks warm and his mind failing to register the fact that Johnny had just admitted to taking an interest in him. A romantic interest, if he’d heard it correctly.

Johnny releases a low chuckle, nodding his head as he goes around Taeyong and stops right behind him, where he then places his whiskey glass down onto the closest shelf, his presence so close Taeyong could feel the heat radiating off his body. When he speaks, his voice is low, whispered close to Taeyong’s ear. “I know what you want. You want success. You want attention. You want the money and with that money, you know it comes with power. You want me.”

Taeyong feels a cold shudder run down the knobs of his spine, but in the way that makes his inside stir with heat as Johnny whispers to him his deepest desires, ones he never said aloud. He tries to think of words to say but Johnny is so, so close, so close he could feel his chest against his back, just subtly and his heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his throat when Johnny’s hand curls gently around his hip.

“I can give you that,” The taller says, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Taeyong’s ear. “Just say the word and I can make the city yours, Taeyong. I see so much in you. Not just magazine covers but contract after contract after contract. You’d make millions, just with that face alone. You asked me what I’m saying and I’m saying we could be partners. I want you,”

Another fiery rush courses through Taeyong’s veins, hot under his skin, when he feels Johnny’s lips brush over the shell of his ear. His eyes close as he releases a shuddery breath, his entire body screaming with an unexplainable urge to be closer, to let himself be swallowed whole. 

Johnny continues, “And I know you want me too. The world is ours and in our world, we put ourselves first. We always put ourselves first. Whatever you want, grasp it, no matter what. That is how you get up here and that is how you’ll stay up here, above everyone else.”

The promise, rather than scare him, only plants images of a future he had dreamed of his entire life, of a life without worry and a life without fear, of endless income so he could be happy, happy forever. He looks out at the city, at the people below rushing to get to work, at the ones by the side of the roads, begging for a penny to live another day. He doesn’t want to be like them. He wants to be more.

He looks out at the city and he thinks he wants it.

* * *

“You  _ what _ ?!” Doyoung screeches out the first time Taeyong spills about his agreement with Johnny and how he had signed the contract with the man he’d met two times in his life. 

When put that way, Taeyong knows how it may seem to be a stranger looking from the outside. But the strangers are not him and they are not Johnny and there is no way they could have known how it had felt like, to stand there with nothing at your feet and listen to someone make a promise to secure your future. Someone who just happens to make Taeyong’s thoughts go a little glitzy and someone who happens to make his heart beat a little louder, a little faster.

If he dares admit it, love at first sight might not be a myth after all.

He sighs now, after going a couple of days not telling Doyoung exactly what had happened at Johnny’s office. He’d put it off for this sole reason; Doyoung thinking he’s too naïve to have agreed on something without thinking it through and in turn treating him like a fucking child. 

“To put it simply, I have a job now. You should be happy for me.” He says, spreading peanut butter onto a plain white bread, having considered himself rewarding of a cheat day. If he could have all the sweets in the world, he probably wouldn’t be here right now. 

Doyoung clenches his jaw. “I  _ am _ happy for you. I’m also worried. Did he specify what you’d have to do prior to signing this contract? I refuse to believe it’s simply because he wants you to be successful.”

“He believes in me, Doyoung. He said he sees a lot of potential in me and he wants to invest in that, wants me to grow and actually live the life I’ve been dreaming of.” 

His best friend scoffs, “I call bullshit. It’s too soon for him to care about you like that.”

Taeyong places the butterknife down and sets the bread aside, annoyed now. “So what if he doesn’t care about me? I care about me. He cares about making money off me. And as long as I get to make money too then I honestly am absolutely fine with that.”

“Taeyong, listen,” Doyoung says then, sounding exasperated. “We both know why your parents wanted me to be here with you. It’s to keep you on track and not have you agree to the first person who offers you a good life. Good lives are earned, Yong. Not handed over on a silver platter.”

“You think I’m being handed a silver platter?!” Taeyong snaps, standing up so fast that the chair screeches against the floor. “I have survived every day and night in that shitty town and endured everyone’s stupid and humiliating comments about how I’m going to end up like my father. And I didn’t go through that for my best friend to sit here and tell me I’m having it easy.”

Doyoung blinks at him, lips parted. “Yong, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You know what, Doyoung?” Taeyong sighs, frustrated and angry. “For that alone, I  _ will _ do whatever he wants me to. He is my boss now and he’s laid out an entire picture for me to grasp if I want it enough and I want it more than anything. If he can help me get it, I will do anything to earn it.”

Clearly mentioning the fact that Johnny had very blatantly addressed his interest in Taeyong has something to do with the new relationship they might be building won’t do any good in this situation, so he keeps quiet about it. Doyoung knowing that would only give him more reason to give an output Taeyong doesn’t want to hear and he’s tired of his best friend judging his decisions.

“I’m just worried about you, Taeyong. You know I care about you, right?” Doyoung says with a sigh and Taeyong watches as he runs his palm down his face. “You can’t get angry every time I try to tell you something. I trust you but I don’t trust him. You barely know him!”

Taeyong laughs bitterly, walking off the mini dining table just outside their motel room, completely in disbelief over how Doyoung could think like that. “How well do you have to know your boss before you let him hire you? It’s a fucking job, Doyoung. I’m taking it.”

“That is not what I meant at all!” Doyoung snaps back, “Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him. It’s almost the same way you looked at that high school crush of yours and you wanted him for like, what? Five years? You’re really going to sign up for another five years of that? Crushing on your boss?”

For a moment, Taeyong’s speech is stunted, lost at what exactly to say to return the slap. Except Doyoung has known him for so long that Taeyong couldn’t deny the fact that he did waste those five years for a boy who didn’t like him back, and clearly he feels some kind of attraction for Johnny. He might even acknowledge that it feels stronger than what he had for that stupid high school boy.

Taeyong sighs, returning to his seat and picking up the peanut butter sandwich he’d made to angrily bite into it. Before he knows it, he finds himself speaking again. “It’s different this time.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks up at Doyoung, clearing his throat. “He likes me, that’s more than I can say about Jongin.”

Doyoung laughs, prompting Taeyong to glare at him and he doesn’t stop for nearly a minute. “Taeyong. God, Taeyong. How can you be so naïve? He’s a  _ man _ . He’s a rich man. There’s a reason he’s up there with all the other rich people. He charms you, makes you believe anything you want to believe. You can’t just let him get everything he wants.”

“Kim Doyoung,” Taeyong lets his sandwich fall back onto his plate after taking a swig of his water. “He gains by helping me strive. I don’t see any losses.”

“You’re missing my point,” Doyoung continues, “I’m worried about your emotional stability. Are you sure you’re willing to spend years with this guy believing he likes you when he could be lying?”

Taeyong sighs, exhausted. “He likes me enough to sign me into his company. Honestly? Right now that’s all that matters. You’ve been nothing but a downer ever since we got here, Doie. I’m tired of it. I have my first photoshoot this weekend so don’t expect me home at least until Monday.”

With that and not giving Doyoung more room to add whatever he would want to say, Taeyong grabs his wallet and mobile phone before he walks off towards the main office, where he knows he would find Taeil, who by far had been a better company than his best friend had been.

* * *

The next time he goes to meet Johnny, the older man sent his chauffeur to pick up Taeyong from the motel. When he had sat inside the car and driven to meet Johnny at the venue of their cover shoot, for the first time in his twenty-three years of life, Taeyong feels powerful and important. He hasn’t spoken to Doyoung in  _ days _ and he doesn’t plan to anytime soon. He’s exhilarated for the first modelling shoot he’s about to experience and even more excited to see Johnny.

Oh, Johnny. He had thought about what Doyoung had said, really he had. It is all the ways possible that Johnny is just using him to gain and while that’s okay as long as he gains too, he couldn’t help but think about the way Johnny’s lips had felt brushing against the shell of his ear, couldn’t help imagining just how much better it would be if Johnny were to kiss him on his mouth instead.

The thought makes his stomach flutter, like butterflies circling around his insides and tickling him from within. It’s an alien feeling, Taeyong thinks. He had never felt like this, certainly not for Jongin, even if he did spend so long crushing on him and lost his virginity to the older boy all those years ago.

Johnny is just… different. Johnny has fire in his eyes and a fierce passion in his work and Johnny speaks with experience and power and every bit of energy he radiates is magnetic. He draws Taeyong in effortlessly and it’s the way that he carries himself that makes Taeyong’s eyes turn into sparkly hearts.

Once the chauffeur announces that they have arrived, Taeyong thanks the middle-aged man and climbs out of the Bentley, careful to close the door as gently as he possibly could for fear that he might leave a scratch or two. Turning around, he quickly spots the setting of the garden venue, with lights and cameras and everyone getting ready. He tries to find Johnny on his way over, unable to wipe off the smile on his lips as his heart races against his chest, nervous and excited.

He does find Johnny eventually, once he’s closer to the venue. The photographer has a lit cigarette stuck between his lips, his camera in hand and his eyebrows knitted together in a frown as he fixes the lens of the camera. Taeyong’s smile widens and the beating of his heart picks up as he skips over to the man.

“Hi!” He chirps a greeting when he notices Johnny didn’t see him coming, tapping once at his shoulder and beaming when Johnny turns to face him. 

There’s an immediate smile that colors Johnny’s face as soon as he sees Taeyong and, to Taeyong’s surprise, the older man pulls him into an embrace, complete with a brief peck of his lips upon the crown of Taeyong’s head His cheeks burn something hot as Johnny leads him towards the venue. “C’mon, we’ll do something fun and easy today. I had them get roses because they remind me of you, somehow. Must be that scar, how’d you get that?”

“Oh,” Taeyong’s hand automatically lifts to touch the small scar at the outer corner of his right eye, a little detail he’d always feared would hinder his dream of becoming a model. “I fell down the stairs when I was a little kid. Is it bad…?”

“God, no,” Johnny laughs with a shake of his head, taking Taeyong’s hand to give him over to who he guesses must be the makeup artist. It’s only then he notices that Johnny’s sporting a simple black tee and a pair of jeans. “I like it. Like I said, reminds me of roses. Makes you unique, sweetheart.”

Another rush of heat spreads across his face and he watches as Johnny leaves to prepare while the makeup artist starts to work on his makeup. He tells Taeyong his name is Jungwoo, a friendly man who smiles and laughs and makes Taeyong feel comfortable and at ease. By the time he was done, Taeyong looks like a whole different man when he looks at his own reflection in the mirror.

He’s then guided towards the centre of the setup, decorated with flowers of different kinds, made to sit on a high stool where he’s then handed a single rose to hold. Now this is the part that he’s familiar with; getting his pictures taken and posing for the camera. He’s done plenty of self-shoot back in his hometown, with the camera he’d saved up to get so he could start his own portfolio.

“Ready, gorgeous?” Johnny asks once Taeyong is in position.

Taeyong smiles, offering a single nod. “Born ready.”

His response brings a smile to Johnny’s face and the moment he lifts his camera up, Taeyong knows this is his time. He poses without being prompted to, schooling his face in such a way that makes him look nothing like the expressions he usually has off camera. He’s good at that, he knows. He has had years of looking at his own photos to perfect how wide his eyes should be, which angle is his best side, how to hold his lips to make the photo inviting.

When he lets his lips part just slightly, chin up and eyes on the camera, Johnny praises him handsomely. Taeyong decides he likes how Johnny sounds when he compliments him so he does something else that would earn him the praise. Johnny is generous when showering him with encouraging words and with every snap of his camera, Taeyong feels more and more confident than before.

“You wanna try something new, beautiful?” Johnny asks after their short break while Jungwoo fixes Taeyong’s makeup.

He raises his brows, heart picking up as he worries about having made a mistake. “Was I bad, Johnny?”

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head. “No, love, you were amazing. I was just thinking that if you let me guide your next poses, we could come up with something pretty.”

Something flutters inside his chest from just the way Johnny speaks to him and Taeyong finds himself nodding, smiling at the photographer before quickly getting off his seat the moment Jungwoo tells him he’s done for now. He tails after Johnny, smiling at all the other crews. 

“Here,” Johnny says, casually taking Taeyong’s hand and guiding him forward, where the flowers are less and he’s made to stand in an open space where the wind blows at his hair and his clothes. Johnny is standing so close that Taeyong could catch a whiff of his cologne, feeling putty even though Johnny is just  _ there _ and not doing anything. He seems to notice this, if the smile on his lips is any indication. 

His hand raises to pointlessly brush Taeyong’s hair off his face only for the strands to be blown right back into his eyes. Johnny whispers then, soft and inviting. “You’re beautiful.”

He looks up, up into Johnny’s warm, honey-glazed eyes and he wonders what his lips would taste like if he leans in just a little closer. Would they taste like honey too? Would they be sugary sweet, like the candy Taeyong loved? Is he even allowed to have these thoughts? He knows they’d only just met but there would be a million others whose stories are similar, who would have shared a bed on the very same night they met. Taeyong is just filled with the unexplainable urge to get a taste of Johnny’s pretty mouth. 

He stares a little too long at Johnny’s pink lips and he swears Johnny was staring at his but the moment is over when someone from behind drops a prop, crashing the glass of tension that was building between them, the only border keeping Taeyong from jumping onto his own boss.

“Stand here and let the wind do its job,” Johnny whispers to him, another smile on his lips though this time he lifts a hand to gently caress Taeyong’s chin, just briefly. “Let your emotions out, Taeyong. Let the world see it. Show us what you’re feeling now, in this moment. Let it embrace you.”

Taeyong nods, feeling a little dazed as he heeds Johnny’s instructions. He stands there in the middle of an open space and he lets his body relax, lets the wind blow his hair into his face as he stares into the camera lens, wide eyes and parted lips with Johnny being the only thing in his head.

* * *

The pictures from the shoot turned out amazing. Taeyong had expected them to be great, as all of Johnny’s works seem to be, but the results that came back to him were mind-blowing. 

He looked different in the photos, the kind of different that still looks like him but at the same time not him. Unlike his own photos he had included in his portfolio, the pictures from the shoot are of a boy with life within his eyes, life he didn’t know he had. When Johnny had handed him the folder of photos for him to look at, Taeyong had flipped through each one in silence. 

After a moment, Johnny releases that staccato laugh he has, the one Taeyong thinks he’s in love with. They’re in Johnny’s lounge again, his office door shut and Taeyong tries not to think about why he couldn’t go in there, though it doesn’t bother him all that much. 

“That was my exact reaction when I first produced them,” Johnny says, addressing to the silence coming from Taeyong. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“But,” Taeyong frowns, looking through them over again. “This can’t be. I mean, it’s me but it doesn’t look like me. Are you some kind of a wizard, or something?”

The older man’s brows lift in question, his smile widening before he laughs again. “What are you talking about? I’m just a photographer, Taeyong. That is just how I see you.”

Taeyong pauses, brought back to the first night they had met and he had shown that giant portrait of his dead sister, the innocent girl with cold, dead eyes. Was that how Johnny sees her then? Dead? He looks through his pictures, finding the ones where he was seated with roses in his hair and a rose in his hand and it’s only then that he notices he couldn’t find the shots of him in that open space, with nothing to hold but his own knees from buckling while his mind swarmed with everything Johnny.

“What about those shots? When the winds were strong? Were they bad?”

“Ah,” Johnny shakes his head, leaning back and lighting up another cigarette stick. It’s the third one he’d started today alone. “I’m keeping those for later. A surprise for my sweet little art.”

Taeyong’s cheeks burn and he releases a soft laugh, his heartbeat picking up once again. The comfort he feels with Johnny is borderline alarming but in a way, he finds only the benefit of it. Taking too long to get comfortable with someone would affect too many things anyway. He wishes the voice in his head that sounds eerily like Doyoung’s would go away; it’s done nothing but make him overthink. 

After exhaling a puff of smoke, Johnny speaks up again. “I was also thinking, would you like for me to send you for a little makeover? I have the rest of the day off.”

“A makeover?” Taeyong frowns before his lips jut out into a natural pout, a little saddened. “Are my looks lacking?”

“Oh, no. No, sweetling.” Johnny laughs, killing off the lit bud of the cigarette in the ashtray before scooting closer to Taeyong. “That wasn’t what I meant. I meant, it’d be good image to keep if you constantly have new looks. Something bold would sell. If the people think you can do something, and you do it, the respect they would have for you would be madness.”

Taeyong nods, silently taking this in as he thinks through all the possibilities of getting more, always getting more. He doesn’t take too long to make a decision. “Do you have anything specific?”

“I don’t,” Johnny smiles as he offers Taeyong his hand. “But I know someone who does. Come.”

* * *

In his entire life, the bravest Taeyong had been was when he was angry at his parents for restricting him and had bought himself a box hair dye to color his hair with. It was a lighter shade of brown that was only visible when he stood under the sun and even then he was conscious about the yelling he would get from his father. He would never, in a million years, have thought he would be staring at his own reflection in the mirror and see a completely different person.

He’d spent hours on this chair after Johnny brought him here to the salon, introducing him to a pretty girl named Yeri and then they had worked on his hair without another word. Aside from the burn in his scalp and the way his ass stung from sitting too long, Taeyong just had to wait. He had no expectations when he was put to sit here but he certainly wasn’t expecting  _ this _ . 

On the right side of his head, they’d dyed his hair a bright red while the other half was colored silver. Instead of finding himself attractive, Taeyong thinks he looks like a fucking chicken. He takes five minutes just staring at his reflection, wishing he could go back in time, wishing he hadn’t let Johnny talk him into changing up his look. He already misses his dark hair and he doesn’t think it’s ideal to be asking for it back. He thinks he might actually cry.

“Hey,” Johnny’s voice startles him from his intense staring, prompting him to look up and turn his head to where Johnny is. “You alright?”

It’s the question that triggers his tears. “I look like a fucking clown, Johnny!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Johnny is quick to come up to him, pulling him close to his chest and Taeyong sniffles as he buries his face into the older’s shirt. “You don’t look like a clown, sweetheart. You look amazing. Beautiful, as always. Come on, look at yourself.”

With another sniffle, Taeyong tears himself away from Johnny to look at the mirror once again. The style they had put his hair in is a little messed up now from how he’d clung to Johnny but now that he’s looking at himself again, Taeyong thinks he doesn’t look too bad. His eyes are red-rimmed from crying, which was stupid, but other than that, he looks refreshing.

“See?” Johnny murmurs to reassure him, one of his hands raised up to fix the stray strands of Taeyong’s red hair. “You could pull off any look, baby. Trust me on that.”

_ Baby _ . He called Taeyong baby and instead of mourning the loss of his natural look and celebrating his new image, Taeyong melts into a puddle over being referred to as  _ baby _ by Johnny himself. His cheeks burn and he sees the pink in them in his reflection, unable to stop the smile that forms on his lips. In the same mirror, he spots Jungwoo from behind Johnny and he turns around to greet the makeup artist.

“Jungwoo!” He gets off the seat to pull Jungwoo into a brief hug, pleased to see another familiar face. “Oh my god, are you here to do my makeup? Did Johnny call you?”

“Yeah, well,” Jungwoo laughs, putting down his things and setting up all the material he needs. “When you work for Johnny Suh, you’re never jobless. Sit down. You look amazing, gorgeous. That hair looks godly on you.” 

For some odd reason, Taeyong looks over at Johnny for some kind of approval. Sure enough, the older man is leaned back against the wall, lighting a cigarette and watching them closely. He isn’t smiling anymore, not even when Taeyong offers him one and as he turns back to the mirror while Jungwoo starts on his makeup, he wonders if he had said something to upset Johnny.

All he knows, really, is that he doesn’t like the look of Johnny when he’s upset.

* * *

Jungwoo doesn’t take very long to work on his face and in less than an hour later, he is looking in the mirror once again and finding a much better version of himself than before. He looks  _ good _ , he just wishes Johnny would tell him that too but the older had been quiet in the back, simply watching them without wearing the smile Taeyong has gotten used to seeing.

Johnny pays up for the services, another cigarette between his lips and then he wordlessly gestures for Taeyong to follow him out. A little upset, Taeyong follows silently, but the silence is too loud and he hates it and he doesn’t want Johnny to be mad at him. They’re outside when Taeyong decides to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, stopping mid-step to prompt Johnny to do the same.

Johnny turns around then, inhaling the last puff of his cig before he tosses it to the ground and stepping on it to kill the light. “I’m not, darling. C’mon, let’s get some shots of you before I send you home.”

Taeyong softens, inclined to listening and doing what Johnny wants him too, like a little puppet but instead of finding anything wrong in that, Taeyong likes it. He steps closer towards the taller, only realizing that Johnny’s already by his Bugatti, the sleek black car standing out almost as brightly as Johnny does. When he’s close to the taller, Taeyong doesn’t make a move to get inside the vehicle.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says when he’s close enough, so close Taeyong had to tilt his head up to look at the other, listening as Johnny continues. “It’s just… I didn’t like it when you and Jungwoo got so close, and then I got even angrier because I had no reason to be upset.”

Taeyong’s lips curl into a small smile and he dares himself to raise a hand and gently run down the side of Johnny’s arm. At that same time, Johnny’s hand caresses his cheek. “It’s okay, Johnny. I’m sorry, too. I promise it’s nothing. He doesn’t… You know, he doesn’t make me feel like you do.”

“How do I make you feel?” Johnny asks, effectively bringing another blush to Taeyong’s cheeks.

He smiles, gaze falling onto Johnny’s mouth and this time he doesn’t look away. “You make me feel a lot of things. Weird things, nice things. I think of you and it does things.. to me, to my body… I just have this urge. I can’t explain it.”

“Is that how much you want me?”

Taeyong looks up, into Johnny’s dark eyes. He dares not speak so he nods his head and it’s all the permission Johnny needs to lean down and kiss him, hard on the mouth. It’s a messy tangle of tongues and limbs as Johnny manoeuvres him against the side of the Bugatti, licking into his mouth whilst his hands tear at Taeyong’s shirt, pulling them out from where they were tucked into Taeyong’s jeans. Johnny tastes like smoke and mint and this close, he smells like lemon. With his eyes closed, Taeyong swears he could see a burst of yellow behind his eyelids. 

They kiss and they kiss hungrily, driven by weeks of the tension hanging thick in the air with the both of them clearly lusting after each other but too wary to do anything about it. 

He finds his own fingers tangled in Johnny’s black locks, curled around the strands for something to hold on to as Johnny kisses him with fervor. The moan he accidentally lets out is enough fuel to have Johnny growling into the kiss and before he knows it, he’s being turned around so his front is pressed up against the car, Johnny’s hot mouth trailing down the side of his neck. Taeyong moans, breathing hitched in his throat at the way Johnny’s teeth nip at his skin and his eyes close as pleasure courses through his veins like wildfire, burning him from inside.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that they’re at a public carpark below the building and Johnny’s Bugatti isn’t the only car there so the chances of someone walking in on them is high but instead of scaring him, the thought makes Taeyong’s skin prick with the heat of getting caught. One of his hands reaches back to curl into Johnny’s hair and he releases a low whimper when the taller’s deft hands work on unbuttoning his jeans. He doesn’t know when or how and he doesn’t care to find out but all he knows is that his pants are off his hips and Johnny is kissing his way down the knobs of his spine. 

And he shakes, trembles with each press of Johnny’s mouth on his skin. 

He’s bent over the Bugatti as Johnny pulls his pants down, eyes closed and the ruffling of clothes is the only sound he could hear besides his own heavy breathing. Taeyong gasps the moment he feels Johnny’s mouth press against the dimples of his back, down to the most intimate part of his body. His entire frame feels like it’s been set on fire and his knees buckle, threatening to fail him if not for the way he’s pressed against the car that’s holding him up. 

“J-Johnny…” He whines, inhaling sharply as his eyes roll into the back of his skull while Johnny’s skilful tongue laps at his rim. He’s probably being dramatic but the pleasure is nothing like he’s experienced before. Not with Jongin, or the boy from college or even his own hand. “Fuck – ”

A single glance back gifts him with the sight of Johnny on his knees and it’s enough to have him dropping his head against the top of the car. It’s messy and filthy and he could feel Johnny’s spit running down the insides of his thighs and it’s so, so good. It’s the sudden intrusion of Johnny’s single digit that has him pulling away but the older male is stronger and Taeyong is caged between him and the car and it doesn’t take long for the odd feeling to quickly turn into pleasure. The second finger joins the first and by the time Johnny has three fingers pumping into Taeyong, he’s keening, needy for his orgasm.

There’s a pathetic little sound that leaves him when Johnny robs him off his pleasure by pulling his digits out of him. Taeyong whines, turning his head to watch as Johnny pulls out his monstrous cock from within the confines of his own jeans and the sight of it alone has Taeyong clenching, squirming at the idea of having it buried within his channel. 

“Please… I want it. Put it inside me, Johnny. Please.” He pleads though he doesn’t have to do much because then Johnny is pressing him up against the car, lips nipping at his earlobes. Absolutely anyone could walk in on them right now but all Taeyong wants is to be fucked senseless.

Johnny kisses his temple, his neck, his shoulder, strong hands gripping at his hips before Taeyong feels him guide his full erected, slicked with precum and his own spit, press against his entrance. He holds his breath then, waiting for the familiar sting and when it comes, Taeyong couldn’t help the cry he lets out as Johnny slowly pushes into him. 

“I got you, baby,” Johnny whispers then, his own breathing sounding rapid. “I know. You’re doing so well. You feel so fucking good around me.”

Taeyong whimpers, taking a moment to let the pleasure consume all the sting and everything else and as soon as he feels the pulsing of Johnny’s cock inside him, he’s shameless when he speaks again. “Move. Please, fuck me. Right here on your car, fuck. Make me yours, Johnny.”

“You are mine, aren’t you?” Johnny growls low into the back of Taeyong’s head, his hips moving as he begins properly thrusting into the smaller male. “You’re all mine. No one else can have you like this.”

“No,” Taeyong shakes his head, his voice a pitch higher and his eyes rolled back once again while Johnny picks up his pace, going at a quicker and stronger rhythm that has Taeyong’s small frame jostled forward with each thrust. “No, just you. Only you can have me like this.”

God, it’s so good. It’s so good Taeyong thinks he’s in one of his fantasy dreams where Johnny would touch him. Except now it isn’t a dream, is it? It’s real. He’s bent over against Johnny’s expensive black car with his pants down and Johnny’s cock stuffing him full. It couldn’t get any better than this. 

Johnny, just as Taeyong had guiltily pictured in his free time, fucks him just the way he’d always wanted to be fucked. He fucks him rough and hard, alternating between slow and fast, but each one feels heavenly. Taeyong finds himself releasing a silent cry for each time Johnny finds his prostate, hitting at the bundle of nerves easily and mercilessly until he starts to shake and tremble, so close to his release.

Without having to say a word, not that he could even if he wanted to, Taeyong continues to moan and whine as Johnny’s pace picks up, as if he knows just how close Taeyong is. He curls his fingers around a lock of Taeyong’s newly dyed hair and uses his grip to pull his head back, creating a beautiful arch in his back as their gazes meet. With that, Johnny pounds into him, every thrust angry and powerful. 

Taeyong cums first, spilling all over the window of the car and making a mess on his jeans and shirt with a cry of Johnny’s name, his entire frame convulsing from the force of his orgasm. Still, Johnny continues to ram into him, harder and faster until he pulls out and spills over the expanse of Taeyong’s back. He groans as he jacks himself off and when he was finished, he presses his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck, both of them breathless.

After a moment, Johnny kisses his cheek before slowly guiding his head so their lips would meet in a slow, passionate kiss, a stark contrast to the exertion just minutes before. Johnny doesn’t say a word as he grabs something from inside his car, a spare Gucci t-shirt he uses to wipe them clean, as well as the window Taeyong had dirtied. 

Watching it makes his cheeks burn even more and when Johnny notices, he laughs, which prompts Taeyong to laugh and then they both laugh as Johnny pulls him in for another kiss. They kiss and it’s slower this time, softer, chests pressed together as they smile against each other’s mouth and Taeyong thinks this is the happiest he’s ever been, though if it’s because he’d just had the best sex of his life or that he’d caught feelings for Johnny is uncertain.

They don’t stop kissing as Johnny leads Taeyong to the passenger side of the car and they kiss again once Johnny is in his seat, as if the idea of stopping is impossible. When Johnny sends him up to the motel he’s still staying at with Doyoung, he finds his best friend watching from outside their door and he makes it a point to lean over and kiss Johnny again.

This time, Johnny kisses him with a hand around his throat and a reminder of who he now belongs to.

* * *

It’s growing increasingly easy to forget that time passes quickly when one is having the time of their lives. Taeyong has progressed from being just Taeyong to Taeyong  _ and _ Johnny. He goes to see Johnny every day now, either to work on more shoots or sign a new contract or have a meeting with possible clients. Most of the time, he goes to see Johnny just to see Johnny.

He spends less and less time with Doyoung, who still refuses to accept the fact that Taeyong and Johnny are more than just a model with his boss, that they’re building a romantic relationship that makes Taeyong feel exhilarating, exciting, adventurous. It’s no loss, however; Taeyong has long known Doyoung isn’t happy with how easy things had been for him. They’d had multiple fights after the major one that day. Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised if Doyoung packs up and leaves but to this day, he stays.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Taeyong’s too happy with Johnny to care.

Johnny, on the other hand, is full of surprises. In the past couple of months of knowing him, Johnny’s brought Taeyong to explore the city and get to know all the big names there are for him to keep in mind. He said it was important to do that so they could stay on top, reminding him that a little slip could easily lead to their destruction and the sound of it scares Taeyong. It’s the very reason why Taeyong promises both himself and Johnny that he should never be too careless.

Aside from work, Johnny has surprised Taeyong in a lot of other ways. He had brought Taeyong to places in the city that Taeyong never knew existed, introduced him to people he said worked for him in the fashion industry and he’s made Taeyong feel like a prince, courted and wanted and cherished so carefully, paying attention to the smallest detail that makes him feel significant.

Taeyong has known happiness before, like when he finally saved up enough money for his own camera so he could start taking pictures of himself or when the train had first rolled into the city, the first sign of his chance to start his life. This happiness, however, is different. This happiness comes in the form of Johnny Suh, who has not, in their time together, ever made Taeyong question himself.

Johnny Suh, who Taeyong is certain by now he had fallen in love with at first sight.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Johnny whispers against the shell of his ear as he covers Taeyong’s eyes with the palms of his hands, slowly guiding him into his mansion. He’d just gotten out of the Bugatti when Johnny claims he has a surprise waiting for him inside and now Taeyong’s heart is racing, lips curled into a wide beam as he makes mental guesses of what it could be.

“Have you prepared a candlelight dinner for us?” Taeyong asks, playful.

Johnny laughs, “Baby, it’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“Fine, late supper? Early breakfast!”

There’s a kiss on his cheek that’s followed by another laugh as they continue up the front steps. It’s slow because Taeyong trips easily and Johnny is gentle when guiding him forward. He hasn’t memorized the ways of Johnny’s gigantic mansion just yet for him to guess which part of the house they had stopped at but the excitement he feels prevents him from being able to think anyway.

In his defence, there is a reason why he’d agreed to follow Johnny out at this time of night and the reason is solely the look on Doyoung’s face when he told Taeyong not to go, as if he was some parental figure Taeyong should listen to. And then of course he’d gone because it’s  _ Johnny _ .

“You can open them now,” Johnny says softly, kissing at the curve of his neck as he removes his hands from where they’d covered Taeyong’s face. 

Slowly, Taeyong opens his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the light. It takes him a second to recognize the space, a more secluded area of the house Johnny named his second study. It isn’t that he’s never been in here that surprises him, it’s the portrait that’s now hung on the wall. He recognizes it immediately, a shot of himself during the first official shooting, one that Johnny’s taken when the winds were strong and his hair had refused to stay in place.

Except in the portrait, Taeyong’s black hair looked still while the leaves hanging off the tree behind him swayed to the left, following the direction of the wind. The picture cuts off just below his sternum, a 33x46 inch framed portrait of a man that both looks and doesn’t look like himself, a man whose soft gaze reminds him of unadulterated happiness and a fondness he couldn’t quite explain. 

“That’s me?” He eventually asks, failing to tear his gaze away from the portrait.

Johnny hums from behind him. “No one else as beautiful as you, darling.”

Something hot spreads across Taeyong’s cheeks but he keeps his eyes on the piece, even when he feels Johnny closing in behind him, his arms winding slowly around Taeyong’s smaller frame from the back. His hair had lost the reds from the time Johnny had brought him to the salon, now dyed a light blond and left a little long he had considered cutting off. Johnny kisses into his hair and immediately his eyes close, basking in the heat of Johnny’s body pressed up against his back.

“Is this why you didn’t show me these shots the first time?” He asks after a moment of silence, his own arms resting above Johnny’s that are wrapped around him. 

Johnny hums, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Needed time to have it produced in the best quality. Do you like it? I only have my best works framed this way.”

Taeyong turns his head just a little, enough to allow him to meet Johnny’s mouth in a soft, innocent kiss. “Am I one of your best works?”

“You’re not my work, Taeyong,” Johnny explains, tightening his arms around the smaller male. “You are art that I happen to be lucky enough to capture in a photo. Would you look at yourself? Look at those eyes, look at your skin, look at your pretty pink lips. You’re out of this world.”

Every word that leaves Johnny makes Taeyong’s heart flutter and no matter how many times Johnny had showered him with praise and compliments, he could still feel his cheeks burn a dark pink. For a moment, they enjoy the comfortable silence, breathing in each other’s presence. Johnny kisses a line down the side of his neck and Taeyong’s eyes close. He inhales. Smoke, mint, lemon. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that you could stay like this forever?”

Taeyong frowns, partly in protest to Johnny stopping the kisses he was enjoying but mostly in confusion to what the older male meant by those words. “What do you mean?”

Johnny’s hand comes up to push his hair back, off his face and behind his ear. “Would you believe me if I told you your beauty and youth could be made eternal? You would stay this way, forever.”

The absurdity of the idea makes Taeyong pull away, turning to properly face Johnny. “What are you talking about, Johnny? Do you mean… Are you saying I can live forever?”

“No,” Johnny shakes his head, reaching a hand out to take Taeyong’s. “I said your beauty can be forever. Your youth can be forever. Not your life. Don’t you want that?”

Should he be scared? He does wonder. Should he be worried that Johnny would end up killing him? Should he be worried that Johnny isn’t who he thinks he is? He tries to find any feelings of worry and anxiousness but all Taeyong found is the intense burn of curiosity. The topic piqued his interest; who would ever want their beauty to age and eventually leave? 

“I don’t know how that’s possible.” He says after a second, searching for Johnny’s gaze.

Johnny gestures towards the portrait with a simple lift of his chin. “Wish upon a star and they would make your dreams come true, isn’t that what they always said? The portrait is a gift. If you wish, you will receive.”

Taeyong frowns, turning back around to look at his own face. “A wish?”

“Just a wish, Taeyong.” Johnny whispers, his arms back around Taeyong, this time with a kiss to the top of his head. “If you want it bad enough, it will happen.”

He stares at the portrait, at the impossibility that Johnny caught the stillness of everything in it, safe for the leaves, the greens on the branches and the browns that flew around him, the only indications that it was a cold, windy day. Could it even be possible? Is it not magic, to wish upon a picture and hope for such things as eternal youth and beauty? He has read many books and learned of many impossible things, so much that the idea of it being a magical portrait isn’t half as impossible as the existence of a rogue humanoid computers.

He closes his eyes and he thinks about the day Johnny had made him stand on the grass, with only his postures to rely on and told to portray the emotions he felt the strongest at that very moment. He still remembers that exact feeling, when he had looked into the camera and thought of Johnny. Is this what lovestruck looks like then? Does it always look so beautiful and hopeless at the same time?

When his eyes open again, Taeyong doesn’t turn his head to look at Johnny, afraid that his wishes might involve an eternity with him instead of what he should want the most. He has the career, he has Johnny, he is already building the life he had always dreamed of. The only thing he lacks now is the security of a long and successful future, where his physical being won’t hinder the pleasures life would bring.

He stares into his own eyes and he wishes. He wishes to be beautiful, he wishes to be young, he wishes that he would never see a day where Johnny isn’t his.

In the quiet and intense moment of him staring at his own portrait, Taeyong thinks he sees the lips on the framed picture curve into the most subtle smile.

* * *

Johnny was not lying when he promised Taeyong that their work together would bring in countless of investments and contracts to sign. In the short span of the next six months, Taeyong had collected enough money to get his own luxury apartment at one of the most high-profiled locations in the city, thanks to Johnny’s connections, ones that had opened up many options Taeyong could choose from.

He brings Doyoung, of course, though mainly because the younger refuses to leave and go back to their hometown. To be civil, Taeyong allowed Doyoung to make up to him for not believing in him in the first place but he could already feel the strain in their relationship. It isn’t how it used to be. Doyoung had become someone Taeyong doesn’t seek to talk about everything like he used to once before.

In some ways, it is sad, but Taeyong doesn’t feel the loss. Everything he has now makes him happy, almost as if he had been reborn and this new life had given him all the things he was lacking previously. His parents called and he’d picked up a couple of times to listen to their insincere congratulations over the contracts he’d signed, namely his agreements with big companies, but most of the time he had ignored the ringing of both his mobile phone and the home telephone in the apartment.

Besides, Doyoung could talk to them for him, since he wants to be a parent so badly.

Taeyong just wants to enjoy the life that he has now because he had worked hard his entire life and everything he had gotten is everything he had earned. He refuses to let anyone take that away from him.

With his schedule packed up, going for photoshoots after photoshoots as well as recording for commercials, Taeyong hardly noticed Doyoung’s presence. Johnny, on the other hand, changes up his schedule to fit Taeyong’s. It’s only fitting; he is the one who had exposed Taeyong to the media and more often than not had taken up the role of manager for Taeyong. 

Taeyong takes it as a blessing; being able to work and still spend every bit of that time with the person he wants to be around most. 

To sum it all up, he’s  _ happy _ . He’s happy like he has never been before and there hasn’t been a day that he was sad since the night things had taken off after he made that wish on that portrait of his, the portrait that he realized he hadn’t bothered to go see again in Johnny’s study.

There was no need to, was there? He’s happy, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

“I saw the portrait Johnny printed out of you in his study the other day,” Yuta is saying as he types away in his computer. They’re in Johnny’s building again, but since Taeyong has the day off and just waiting for Johnny to be done with a meeting, he decided it would be nice to catch up with Yuta, whose office is just a floor below Johnny’s.

Yuta’s words bring a blush to Taeyong’s cheeks, smiling as he looks around the smaller office, at framed pictures Yuta decorated the interior with. “What did you think of it?”

He looks over at Yuta at his desk when the latter’s head lifts to meet his gaze. There’s a smile on Yuta’s face before he returns to his work. “You already know everyone is in love with your face, Taeyong. When I first saw it, I was fucking mesmerized. Pretty sure Johnny got jealous when I stared too long.”

Taeyong giggles, a soft little sound that leaves his parted lips as he walks over to sit by Yuta’s desk. “I can’t believe it turned out that way. It almost doesn’t look like me.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuta chuckles, finally looking away from his computer to pick up a file from the shelf behind him, one that he looks through in search of something. “Johnny has a gift but you know what he said to me that night he had that printed out?”

Taeyong’s brows lift in curiosity, the question having piqued his interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t touch your shot,” Yuta explains, putting the file down to look up at Taeyong. “I know he does things to his other shots, when it’s the other models, but he didn’t touch yours. And you know what that means? That means you’re gifted.”

A hot rush of heat spreads across Taeyong’s cheeks and he couldn’t fight off the big grin that colors his lips. The idea that he was just as much special as Johnny is makes his skin prick with the kind of pride that he’s never felt before. “Do you think Johnny and I are meant to meet? If he has a gift with capturing moments and feelings, do you think I’m meant to be his muse?”

For a moment, Yuta keeps his gaze locked to Taeyong’s and it’s silent safe for the soft music Yuta plays in the background. And then Yuta smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe. Who am I to disagree with that? It’s a one in a lifetime thing, I’m sure. I’ve worked with Johnny for nearly ten years, I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“You don’t know how much happier that just made me,” Taeyong sighs, hopping off the desk to go over and drop himself onto the couch. “I don’t think I’ve been this happy either.”

Yuta hums, already returning to his work. “I’m happy for you both. But speaking of the portrait, I don’t know if you noticed but I think it’s sort of damaged at the side.”

Taeyong frowns, immediately sitting up. He doesn’t remember finding any flaw to the framed photo when he had last seen it. “What do you mean? It looked great when I saw it.”

“I mean, like, on the side?” Yuta shrugs again. “It looked like it was burned out or something. It was charred. I didn’t ask Johnny why but I assumed he already noticed.”

_ What?  _ Taeyong rises from the couch, his mind reeling with possibilities. How could it be ruined already? It was hung up on the wall and clearly Johnny hadn’t moved it because he has better things to do than reposition the portrait. How could there be any kind of damage? His frown deepens and he’s tempted to find Johnny but he’s quickly reminded that Johnny’s in a meeting.

“What do you think it could be, Yuta?”

Yuta sighs, “I don’t know, Yong. But I’m sure it can be fixed? It costs a ton but it won’t dent Johnny’s bank account.”

“Right,” Taeyong nods, deciding soon after that Yuta probably wouldn’t understand the confusion because the only other person who knows about the abnormality of the portrait is Johnny and only Johnny would have the answer Taeyong is looking for. 

* * *

He finds Johnny an hour later, waiting on one of the chaise lounge decorating the outer part of his floor. He was never allowed inside Johnny’s office, in almost a year since they’d gotten together but it doesn’t really bother him. Johnny is allowed a private space in his office and as long as he’s not invited in, Taeyong isn’t going to ask if he could take a peek. 

Johnny smiles as soon as he sees Taeyong, unbuttoning the buttons of his suit that he quickly takes off before folding neatly to place over the armchair. “Been here long, baby?”

For just a brief second, Taeyong forgets why he’s here. It’s the Johnny effect, he calls it. When he sees Johnny, he more often than not forget what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do. He shakes his head in response to Johnny’s question, lifting a hand to card his fingers through his hair. “How was your meeting?”

The older male shrugs his shoulders, dropping himself down next to Taeyong and immediately burying his face into the smaller’s lap. “It was too long. I missed you. What have you been doing?”

“I was with Yuta,” Taeyong says softly, carding his fingers gently through Johnny’s soft, black strands. “Speaking of, he said my portrait in your study is a little damaged. What happened?”

Johnny tenses up and Taeyong jumps back a little when he sits up, frowning. “What were you doing with Yuta?”

Taeyong blinks, “I was just catching up –”

He watches as Johnny clenches his jaw, rising up to his feet and going over to his liquor cabinet to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That I was going to hang out with Yuta? Johnny, I don’t think I need to tell you that. Besides, he’s just a floor down and you were busy. I was bored – ”

Taeyong flinches when Johnny finishes the shot of whiskey and slams the glass down, the sound bouncing against the walls and echoing within the room. “Taeyong, I thought I mentioned multiple times that I don’t like it when you’re with other people.”

There’s a laugh that Taeyong lets out. “Babe, it’s  _ Yuta _ .”

Johnny, however, isn’t too amused. Taeyong’s smile falters when he notices the hard lines on Johnny’s face and he clears his throat, at the same time angry that he’s being doubted like this. Johnny pours another glass. “I wouldn’t know what you two do behind my back, would I? You did meet first before you met me. Do you like him, Taeyong?”

“ _ What?! _ ” Taeyong shoots up, snapping back. “Are you implying that I’m cheating on you? Johnny, what the fuck?”

Johnny remains calm as he drinks, clicking his tongue as he swallows but his demeanour is off and Taeyong knows he’s angry and upset. “I don’t want you hanging out with Yuta whenever I’m not around. Do you love me, Taeyong? If you love me, you would listen to me.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Taeyong scoffs, enraged in the way that his skin pricks with heat and his heart is racing against his chest. “I do love you, but you need to trust me. Why would I do that to you?”

He watches as Johnny takes a seat on the chaise, lighting up a cigarette that he soon inhales from, blowing out a mass amount of smoke that filled the room. The long silence is enough to have Taeyong calm down just a notch but he waits for Johnny to speak again, hoping the older would be calmer too. But Johnny doesn’t speak, simply taking puffs of his cigarette and drinking from his glass. 

“Johnny?” Taeyong starts, softer this time. “You weren’t being serious, were you?”

Johnny’s gaze lifts to meet his over the smoke billowing around them. “I was. I’ll put it simply, darling. If you don’t listen, and you refuse to listen, I think it’s best if you leave now.”

“Johnny!” Taeyong gasps, shocked by the harshness that Johnny is treating him with. “Why are you treating me like I’m some kind of your property? I don’t need you to be caging me, Johnny. I –”

“Then get out,” Johnny cuts him off, steely gaze piercing into his. They weren’t the same warm, honey brown Taeyong loves. “Get out, Taeyong. Come back if you change your mind.”

Taeyong’s face heats up with embarrassment, humiliation washing over him and the moment his tears dropped down his cheeks, he’s storming out of the office, rushing off and out of the building.

* * *

It’s Doyoung who finds Taeyong sobbing into his throw blanket by the window seat in his apartment, the younger quickly closing the door and cradling him in his arms. He doesn’t ask any questions while Taeyong continues to cry, wetting the blanket and cursing at Johnny internally for treating him like trash, like property, and feeling betrayed because Johnny  _ knows _ how much he hated his parents for caging him, how much he had fought Doyoung for trying to cage him. 

And now Johnny is doing exactly that? Taeyong couldn’t believe it.

He’s thankful Doyoung isn’t asking any questions, softened over how much he cares enough to make dinner for the two of them, even making sure Taeyong has his nightly cup of warm milk. By the time the night is coming to an end, they sat in silence by that same window seat, leaning against opposite ends as they look out the wall size window, into the city below. 

Taeyong’s face feels swollen. For the first time in nearly a year, all he could feel is the heavy weight of a possible loss. The idea of losing Johnny over such a stupid argument makes his heart hurt in such a way that he’s never felt before. It isn’t even close to the heartbreak he felt when Jongin told him he never returned his feelings, even though they had spent so long acting in love.

Johnny is just… different. Taeyong has known this from the start, from that very first moment they’d locked eyes in that party at the Merindah, when Johnny had shown that portrait of his dead sister. It was love, he had known even then. And while they have yet to say those words, besides when they’d blurted it out earlier in the middle of the fight, Taeyong knows it in his heart.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, Taeyong?” Doyoung asks quietly as the credits begin to roll on their TV screen, left on as background noise as they watched the city streets.

He sighs, tightening the blanket around himself. “I had a big fight with Johnny.”

“So big you were crying your eyes out?” The younger asks again, his voice now laced with a tinge of protectiveness. Taeyong already knows what’s coming.

“I’m just a baby, okay?” Taeyong sniffles, eyes heavy from crying but also from the sudden fatigue he feels from the day he’s had. “Couples fight all the time, you know that.”

Doyoung straightens up, lips pursed and Taeyong knows he has more to say. He wonders if he has the energy to fight Doyoung now, when all he wants to do is lay in bed and maybe cry again. Eventually, Doyoung slumps back with a frown on his forehead. “Did he hurt you?”

Taeyong shrugs. “Fights hurt. It’s normal.”

“Are you seriously going to defend him right now?” Doyoung asks, looking exasperated. “Did he touch you? Hurt you physically? What did he say that’s made you so sad?”

With a sniffle, Taeyong shifts in his seat and moves, rising to his feet. “It’s nothing, Doie. It was a fight. He didn’t touch me, just said he didn’t like it when I hang out with Yuta. I wouldn’t like it eith –”

“Oh, so he’s that type,” Doyoung scoffs, clearly using the opportunity to bring up every bad thought he’s ever had of Johnny. “That’s toxicity, Taeyong. You’re in a relationship, not prison. You shouldn’t feel threatened by a friend when your partner hangs out with them.”

For some odd reason, Taeyong feels a spark of anger triggered within him and he glares at Doyoung. “I said, I would feel the same if I was in his shoes. Are you calling me toxic too?”

“Yes??” Doyoung looks at him in disbelief. “But that’s not the kind of person you are.”

“Yeah, well,” Taeyong snaps, unwrapping the blanket and tossing it onto the window seat. “You don’t know the kind of person I am anymore. I’m saying I would be equally upset and if that makes me a toxic person then so be it. You’ve completely ruined my day, thank you very much. Everything was good until you had to open your mouth, Doyoung.”

Taeyong storms away to wash the glass of milk Doyoung had prepared for him, carefully placing it on the drying rack before he goes into his room. He doesn’t bother changing out of his sleep clothes, grabbing his cardigan to wear it over his oversized t-shirt he’s very clearly aware once belonged to Johnny. It still smells faintly of him, that same hint of smoke and mint and burst of citrusy lemon.

God, he missed Johnny already.

Grabbing his car keys, wallet and phone, Taeyong ignores Doyoung’s calls as he leaves the apartment. Like earlier in the day when he had left Johnny, this time he seeks for him with the same urgency he felt when he was trying to get away. His mind is nothing but Johnny and almost as if it has a life of its own, his body craves Johnny’s presence and his feet takes him to that same, old mansion he feels more at home in than the apartment he bought with his own money.

* * *

When the tall doors of the mansion open, the first thing Taeyong sees is Johnny, looking soft and warm but just as wrecked as Taeyong feels. He’s wrapped up in Taeyong’s faux fur blanket, the one he’d left in Johnny’s bed the last time he slept over. His hair looks damp, probably from a shower, and he’s in a big sweater that covers even his fingers. Taeyong feels like he might cry again just at the sight.

Johnny steps aside and Taeyong takes that as an invitation to come in. He takes careful steps into the mansion and turns to look at Johnny when he closes the door with a soft click. It feels odd, somehow. He doesn’t know if Johnny is still mad over what had happened. All he knows is that he doesn’t care if he isn’t allowed to hang out with anyone else; he just wants Johnny.

The silence is too heavy as Johnny curls his arm around Taeyong’s waist and leads him over to the couch. The living space is dimly lit, illuminated only by the warm white of Johnny’s lamp that stands beside his reading chair. Taeyong watches as Johnny lights up a cigarette and for about a minute or two, he smokes while Taeyong leans back, exhausted but restless.

After a little while, Taeyong sighs as he scoots closer. “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

Johnny hums, gaze lifting to meet Taeyong’s. “Why are you sorry?”

“For upsetting you,” Taeyong mumbles, toying with his fingers and tearing up once again, feeling pathetic and guilty and sad and stupid. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

When Johnny doesn’t say anything, Taeyong looks up at him, almost pleading. Johnny doesn’t speak but his features soften and he reaches out to curl his large hand around the side of Taeyong’s face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back. I’m sorry, too, Taeyong. C’mere.”

He pulls Taeyong close, close enough to be straddling his hips and this, Taeyong thinks, feels like home. Being close to Johnny is home and it isn’t his apartment, or the motel, or even the room he’s lived in since he was born. Even this mansion isn’t home. Home is Johnny. And Taeyong is home.

There’s a smile that colours his lips even as his tears still roll down his cheeks, a hand lifted to card through Johnny’s damp hair before he leans close and buries his face into the older’s neck. He breathes him in, inhales quietly, the scent of his lemon soap strong against his nose and when he pulls away again, Taeyong kisses him. He kisses him like he hadn’t kissed him in ages.

It’s Johnny that pulls away, gently, to take a puff of his cigarette with a small smile on his lips. His fingers move to slowly curl around Taeyong’s slim throat, the pressure just enough for Taeyong to fill it, enough to have him gasping, though purely out of pleasure. When his lips part, Johnny takes the opportunity to blow smoke into his mouth and Taeyong feels his entire body go lax, weak and shuddery as his eyes roll back and he  _ loves  _ it. Taeyong giggles, giddy, and Johnny laughs just as he leans in to kiss the corner of the older’s mouth.

“Tell me who you belong to, my love,” Johnny whispers against his jaw, pressing kisses down the column of his neck and Taeyong hisses at the sharp sting of his teeth nipping at his skin. “Tell me.”

“You,” Taeyong says breathily, Johnny’s show of dominance stirring the same, familiar heat within his belly. He finds Johnny’s lips again, licks at the seams that taste like smoke and his hips roll against his, eliciting a whine right out of him. “I’m yours, Johnny. Only you.”

Johnny hums, the grip around Taeyong’s neck tightening just a notch and he lets Taeyong grind down against him while he licks into his mouth. They kiss and they kiss and Johnny reminds Taeyong who he belongs to even when he’s the one straddling Johnny’s hips, even when he’s the one working his hips as he rides Johnny, moans into his chest and cries against his mouth, sobbing like a pathetic little bitch as he chases after the orgasm he knows only Johnny could give, all while Johnny smokes his cigarette with his hands on each of Taeyong’s hips. 

And when he’s frustrated and tired, tears staining his cheeks as he  _ begs _ for Johnny to fuck him, he’s the one who chants who he belongs to into Johnny’s neck, his words whimpered out as Johnny fucks up into him, over and over and over until they both spill. 

* * *

Fame and success taste like sugar and honey on Taeyong’s tongue and he’s always had a sweet tooth. As weeks and months go by, Taeyong and Johnny thrive on his successful career and with his increasing fame, Johnny had gotten a lot more recognition and vice versa. Their teamwork produces such good results that it grew increasingly impossible to work on something without the other. Taeyong complements Johnny in a way that makes his masterpieces look even more grandeur and Johnny completes Taeyong like the missing puzzle piece he never knew he lacked.

They were like Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde and Taeyong feels sick in the head but watching the many versions of the Joker and his Harley Quinn makes him giddy, if only for the fact that they remind him of his relationship with Johnny. He’s aware of the negativity that surrounds the pair but he’s in love and he’s  _ happy _ . Everything else shouldn’t matter as long as he’s happy.

And Johnny makes him the happiest.

He doesn’t meet with Yuta anymore, not unless Johnny is with him, because no matter how much he hates being caged and controlled, he hates the thought of losing Johnny even more. There have been occasions where Johnny would get jealous, of another model or the makeup artist and sometimes even reporters that get too friendly with Taeyong. They would fight and they would make up and Taeyong always ends up being reminded of who owns him, either with his cheek planted into the sheets or pressed up against the window while Johnny fucks him hard enough to make him remember.

Taeyong loves every moment of it.

Still, no matter how much power Johnny has over him, Taeyong knows he has just as much over Johnny. He knows, because his jealousy is tenfold that of Johnny’s and he knows Johnny would sometimes make him jealous on purpose, if only so they would end the night with Taeyong riding him in his need to claim Johnny as his, leaving angry red marks and trails of his nails digging into Johnny’s skin.

He knows Johnny loves it just as much as he does. 

What Taeyong  _ doesn’t _ know is how bad his jealousy could get. Like right now, as he grips onto the glass of champagne and trying not to crush it with his fingers, watching the group of amateur models surround Johnny. The girls are giggling but a particular one is brushing her shoulder against Johnny’s arm, even going so far as to let her hand linger on  _ Taeyong’s _ boyfriend’s back, as if they were close, as if the whole world doesn’t know who Johnny belongs to.

The event is held in the very building the founder of the city, Jeong Yejun, had officially signed an agreement to hand over his rights to his son and successor, Jeong Jaehyun, before passing away shortly after. Jaehyun’s younger sister, Gahyeon, is debuting with her fashion line, therefore the party and a runway to showcase all of her designs. Taeyong and Johnny had been invited as VIPs, due to their big name in the industry. 

He’d been excited to walk for Gahyeon, the young, wide-eyed girl whose dreams are as big as Taeyong’s had been and whose work are not bad at all, for a debuting designer. It’s just that, he would really prefer if the other models respect him enough to not feel up his boyfriend.

The walk had gone splendidly. Everyone who had turned up – photographers, fashion critiques, reporters and the like – already know his name. He feels powerful just for the fact that he’s known and adored; sure there have been negative comments but almost everyone loves him as a model, as a person, and there had been countless of interviews and magazines that had featured him, alone or with Johnny. 

See, when he said the whole world knows who Johnny belongs to, he meant the whole world. There is no excuse that the girl wouldn’t know of their status. There would be no excuse for Taeyong not to get angry and possessive.

Calmly, he places the champagne glass down, schooling his face to keep his expression neutral and only smiling when someone recognizes him. Johnny’s smile widens when he finds Taeyong approaching and Taeyong returns it, one that is more forced than he had intended as Johnny introduces him to girl. Some wench named Kathy that Taeyong recognized as someone rather new in the industry. 

Newer than Taeyong, at least. 

“Johnny,” Taeyong says softly, curling a hand possessively around Johnny’s arm speaking directly to him but his eyes are fixated on Kathy. “I think Jaehyun was looking for you. You should get to him soon, love.”

Johnny’s eyebrows raised, “Yeah? Well, then, I’m sure you can keep Kathy entertained. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” 

Taeyong nods, keeping his smile as Johnny kisses the side of his head and walks off to find Jaehyun, even though Taeyong himself hadn’t seen Jaehyun since the runway show ended an hour earlier. It’s surprising even to himself how long he managed to keep up with his smile, considering how much anger he has now just looking at her.

Kathy’s smile is innocent but the twinkle in her eyes and the way the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly is enough to tell Taeyong she was enjoying her clever little show. She’s dressed in red, dyed hair flowing down her back. Her eyes are odd-colored; brown in her left and blue on her right.

“You’re so lucky, Taeyong,” She says with a soft sigh, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she speaks. “I bet he fucks you good, doesn’t he? Think you could spare a night for me to get a taste?”

His jaw clenches but there he goes; the first sign of frustration. “I would think you’d know enough not to disrespect your seniors, Kathy. Shouldn’t we be kind to each other?”

Kathy makes a face, one that has her nose scrunching up and Taeyong could see the foundation on her skin creases. “I was kind, was I not? I asked nicely. Besides, Taeyong, you’re hardly a senior. I think we could pass off as the same batch, don’t you think?”

Taeyong’s lips purse and he doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts to hurt. He takes a step forward, just close enough to whisper to Kathy. “I would listen to me if I were you, Kathy. Please get your filthy claws away from my Johnny and I hope I never have to speak with you again.”

“Or what?” Kathy challenges just as Taeyong starts to walk off, causing him to pause midstep. “You can’t do anything to me, Mr. Lee. Soon, you’d be old news, even to Johnny.” 

The girl puts on her innocent smile once again as she waves at him, walking off with a sway of her hips and a confidence he thinks she’d used at the wrong time. Admittedly, she’s a beautiful woman and he doesn’t doubt that she would get any man she would want to fuck and he wouldn’t stop her as long as it wasn’t his man. Anger blinds him, however, and he watches as she walks away, something raw and ugly building up within his chest that feels dark and unforgivable. 

He doesn’t go and find Johnny, though he does catch him deep in a conversation with Jaehyun. He wonders briefly if Johnny ever did find out if he was lying earlier and if Jaehyun just so happens to be looking for him. Taeyong moves almost subconsciously, keeping a close eye on Kathy wherever she goes, blinded by rage because all he sees is red; red on her lips, red on her dress, red in her hair.

It’s almost as if he was possessed as he followed her out of the building, fuelled by her sickening smirk and that pressed voice telling him he would be old news sooner or later, that the people would forget him, that  _ Johnny _ would forget him. Doesn’t she know he’s practically immortal now? His beauty, his fame and his possessions would be his in his long life. She would only know half of hers.

There is barely any hesitation in his steps as he subtly trails after her. When he catches sight of a metal fork they’d prepared at the end of the buffet, Taeyong grabs it with a sleek move of his wrist. He doesn’t bother making sure he is not being followed, aware only of the way his heart is racing against his chest and Kathy’s voice in his head calling Johnny’s name as if she had the right to.

There is a rush of adrenaline that pumps through his veins as she rounds into a quiet corner, where he assumes she’d hidden off to for a smoke. He finds her right there, at the side of the building where the cars are sparse and the lights are dimmed and he doesn’t  _ think _ . Taeyong doesn’t think; he moves.

He jumps at her with a cry and she turns around in pure shock just in time for him to plunge the sharp ends of the fork right into her right eye, the one with the sparkly blue iris. He goes down with her as she falls onto her back, screaming her lungs out. His free hand goes to cover her mouth to muffle her screams and he pulls out the fork from where he’d driven it into her now bleeding eye only to stab repeatedly into the same spot, over and over and over again and he doesn’t stop until she stops twitching.

His senses return to him when he feels the warm, sticky blood run down his fingers, and he feels them on his face and he sees them covering the entirety of her features. He hurls himself off of her, falling onto his behind and scooting away until his back hits the wall. His breathing is labored and uneven, eyes wide and he raises his hands to look at his bloodied hands, the fork now standing erect and dug into Kathy’s eye socket. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

Taeyong whimpers, absolutely terrified of what he had done, what he had let his rage drive him to do. The blood keeps pooling out of her skull, pooling under her head and it doesn’t matter that her hair is red, doesn’t matter that she’s wearing a red fucking dress; the dark crimson spreads over her skin, goes under her nails where she was scratching at the ground and Taeyong couldn’t remember if she had looked scared. 

His fingers are trembling and in his panic and fear, Taeyong curls his own arms around himself, staining the whites in his clothes with the same sticky substance. The smell burns his nose, carves its own place in his memory and Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut hoping that this had all been one terrible nightmare.

“Taeyong?”

He jumps at the sound of the voice, for a second failing to recognize who it belongs to but then he finds Johnny at the end of the alley, gaze shifting between Taeyong and the body lying in front of him. Taeyong bursts into tears and Johnny is quick to move, taking a few wide strides of his long legs and then he’s crouching down next to Taeyong. 

In his fit of sobs and panic that makes breathing nearly impossible, Taeyong feels Johnny wrap his coat around him and his voice is warm and soft, sounding nothing like someone who had just seen a dead body. Against the shell of Taeyong’s ear, Johnny whispers. “I got you, baby. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

_ It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. _

Taeyong inhales. 

Smoke. Mint. Blood. More blood. Rain. 

He inhales deeper for air, deeper so he could breathe and not taste the metallic flavour of blood on his tongue, deeper and desperate so he could try to forget.

He inhales, once, twice.

_ Lemon.  _

_ Home _ .

* * *

The portrait sitting on the wall in Johnny’s study looks nothing like Taeyong. He’d thought this the first time he had seen it but it was in a better light, the kind of denial that he doesn’t look  _ that _ good, that it is impossible to look that great in a photo. But now, still sticky and gross from Kathy’s blood drying on his fingers, Taeyong stands in Johnny’s study, beyond repulsed at the sight of his own portrait.

When Yuta had mentioned how the side of the photo looked charred, Taeyong was preoccupied with fighting Johnny and then fucking him that he didn’t go to see what Yuta had meant. In the time between now and then, it had slipped his mind completely and he didn’t bother checking. Now he’s staring at it, wide eyed and trembling from the ends of his hair to his toes, failing to comprehend how the half of his face is decaying, his skin melting like wax, the entire thing a gruesome sight.

The most questionable part of this is how the printed photo itself is still of the perfect quality. It’s only the picture version of himself that is slowly decomposing, as if he had looked like that when Johnny took the photo. Taeyong feels a shiver run down his spine and he steps back, back until he bumps into Johnny, quickly turning around with a gasp. 

His heart races against his chest, afraid of everything, of Johnny, of himself, of that portrait that seems to be staring him down. He stammers, failing to find the words to say. After his breakdown with Kathy’s body still next to him, Johnny had taken him home, where he had made Taeyong sit on the couch and wait for him to help clean up but Taeyong had wandered off, to the study room that happened to be unlocked. How could Johnny sit here and stare at his rotten face?

“Taeyong, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Johnny says calmly, his strong arm curling around Taeyong’s smaller shoulders as he leads him away from the study. 

He closes the door when they step out and they’re silent as Johnny takes him upstairs to his bathroom, the spacious lavatory Taeyong has had the privilege to shower in the past year. Johnny had drawn a warm bath for him while he was downstairs and now as he stands there in the middle of the bathroom, shaking, Johnny helps him out of his dirty clothes. The taller doesn’t say anything as he pries Taeyong’s coat off his shoulders, carefully undoing the lace strings of his blood-stained white shirt with gentle fingers and then doing the same to the strings of his pants.

He was still wearing the outfit Gahyeon had gifted to him as another thank you for walking her runway and he had chosen to wear it so he could show it off to the people he knew were taking notes. Now the clothes don’t look half as elegant as they were when he had first gotten them.

Johnny pours a drop of oil in the warm water in the bathtub, something that smells like vanilla before he gently threads his fingers through the surface, as if testing the temperature. Taeyong is bare from head to toe, trembling from both fear and the cold. He lets Johnny guide him into the tub, where he sits with his knees pulled up against his chest, memories of Kathy’s body and her screams and her eyes playing over and over again in his head. 

He watches as Johnny rolls up the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, going down onto his knees so he could level with Taeyong as he tenderly takes one of Taeyong’s dirty hands to scrub the blood stains off his fingers. Taeyong doesn’t ask questions as Johnny continues to do just that, making sure his hands and arms are clean. When he gets to Taeyong’s face, his calloused digits are gentle in the way his thumbs wipe at Taeyong’s cheeks, over his eyebrows, leaving Taeyong more relaxed than he should be.

“I killed her, Johnny,” Taeyong finally says, breaking the silence even though he doesn’t want it to end. “I killed her. She’s dead.”

Johnny’s jaw clenches and he stays silent as he removes the dirty water with a water scoop, until the tub is empty again before he refills it with the water already in the pail nearby. It isn’t as warm and instead of oil, Johnny puts a few drops of body soap and stirs the water enough for it to start foaming. It smells of the same citrusy lemon that clings to his skin.

His features are soft as he finds Taeyong’s gaze and Taeyong looks into those honey eyes. He leans into Johnny’s hand that strokes at his hair, feels a shuddery sob wreck through his entire being as Johnny kisses into his hair. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got it all taken care of. You stay here and take your bath, okay? Clear your mind. Everything will be okay.”

When Johnny makes to move, Taeyong is quick to curl his fingers around Johnny’s wrist. “Stay with me, please? Take a bath with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

The older of the two smiles and he nods once, moving away slowly so Taeyong doesn’t panic, standing onto his feet to take off his clothes as well. There are blood stains on Johnny’s sleeves too but Taeyong looks away, keeping his gaze on Johnny as the latter steps into the tub as well. There’s barely enough room for two grown male to share such a small space, but Johnny manoeuvres Taeyong between his long legs, his smaller body encased within Johnny’s strong arms.

Taeyong lets his eyes close while Johnny’s lips press along his shoulder. He allows himself to loosen up, quietly willing the painful tension clinging onto his body to leave. There are so many questions but in the moment, Taeyong is aware of only two things; Johnny and how their bodies are pressed together.

Johnny’s palm slides across his torso, the pads of his fingers brushing over his nipple. Taeyong knows from how quickly his breaths had become labored that Johnny would be taking him and he probably shouldn’t but Taeyong asks anyway. “What’s wrong with my portrait?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Johnny whispers against his skin, the same palm on his belly move to rub at his thigh, causing Taeyong to let out a little gasp. 

He struggles to find the right words to phrase his question but he managed, “Why do I look... fucked up? What happened?”

Johnny responds with a hum and Taeyong gasps a little louder as he feels Johnny’s large fist curl around his cock, his thumb circling slowly over the slit. “Is this okay?”

With a whimper, Taeyong doesn’t think twice as he nods his head, his entire body feeling like it’s on fire and he moans when Johnny shifts, guides his length between the cleft of Taeyong’s ass. The hand around his cock continues to stroke him, making it difficult for him to speak and whilst he knows that the subject of his ruined portrait should turn him off, all Taeyong feels is the heat of Johnny’s hand.

“My portrait, Johnny,” Taeyong proceeds, eyes rolling back at a particular way Johnny’s fingers squeeze at the base of his shaft, a shudder coursing down his spine. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What would have happened to you had you not make a wish, my love,” Johnny finally says casually, his voice reminding Taeyong of honey drips, thick and sweet and made better when he lifts Taeyong up just enough to press gently into him, his veiny shaft pushing past Taeyong’s tight rim. 

“Fuck,” Taeyong cries out, feeling as though Johnny had torn him in half with the lack of preparation but he had long discovered his love for pain so the pleasure that replaces the sting comes quickly. 

Johnny continues to kiss along the column of Taeyong’s neck as he speaks. “You wished to be beautiful forever, did you not? You wished for youth, to stay like this for an eternity and you will have it. See, there is always a price and yours come in the form of a physical, visible reminder.”

Taeyong whimpers at a particular thrust Johnny delivers that came with the last of his words. He feels full, filled to the brim and stretched out so deliciously that what Johnny is saying only makes him feel hotter. He speaks up, even as his body trembles with pleasure. “Reminder of what?”

“Your sins, Taeyong,” Johnny whispers this into his ear, sending another rush of shivers through every nerve in Taeyong’s body. “You’re a sinner. You sin. And each time you do, your portrait suffers it. But you’re my sinner, aren’t you? My sweet, dirty sinner.”

It should sicken him, terrify him but the pleasure of being called as such is nothing he has ever felt before. His body lights up with  _ lust _ , the same coiling in his belly tightening as Johnny grips at his hips and begins fucking up into him. Johnny is merciless, his monstrous cock ramming up into Taeyong’s tight heat, fucking him open. The water in the tub splashes violently with their ministrations, spilling over and wetting the floor as Johnny picks up the pace.

He ends up being bent over the end of the tub while Johnny pounds into him, so hard and brutal that he knows the smacks of Johnny’s hipbones against his rear would leave nasty bruises in the coming days. When Johnny leans over his back to mouth at his earlobe and suck red marks into his neck, he grunts, words muffled but clear enough for Taeyong to understand.

“You’re a fucking sinner, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Johnny laughs lowly against the shell of his ear, cock still plunging into Taeyong’s hole. “Letting me fuck you open like this, begging for me to fuck you harder. Imagine just how fucking ruined your portrait looks now.”

Taeyong whimpers, his own cock leaking, a clear indication that every word Johnny uttered makes him see stars. He whines when Johnny pulls out of him and to his surprise, the older pulls him up and out of the tub none too gently. The force has him falling onto his hands and knees but the rough way Johnny handles him with makes his stomach twist with an even more intense pleasure, one that intensifies when Johnny grips a handful of his hair and drags him out of the bathroom, all the way to the study downstairs.

There, where his portrait stares down at them, Johnny tosses him onto the carpeted floor, once again on all fours. He ignores Taeyong’s pathetic whimpers and whines, wasting no time in curling his fingers around his hair to pull him back, enough to have his back arching, enough to have Taeyong looking up, up at the framed portrait while Johnny penetrates him with not a single warning.

Taeyong’s eyes roll into the back of his skull when he’s filled up with cock again. Johnny, like a madman, fucks into him with fervor, his speed and force nothing he has ever enforces before. If anything, however, it pushes Taeyong even closer to his orgasm. 

“Look at it,” Johnny breathlessly orders him to and Taeyong immediately lifts his gaze to look at his portrait. “Look at the way it rots. It’s all you, baby. You’re sinning. You’re dirty. You’re my little whore.”

Sure enough, though his vision is blurring from how good it feels to be fucked mindlessly, he sees the way his face in the picture continues to char, melting in a way, like someone is holding it above a flame. He cries out sharply at another particular deep thrust, one that has Johnny’s cock jabbing at his prostate.

“Fuck, Johnny – Fuck. That feels so good, oh my god. Please, please, please. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!” He pleads, body jostled forward with each hard thrust whilst he keeps his gaze on the portrait.

Johnny is grunting too, his thrusts growing sloppy. “You’re so fucking good, Taeyong. So good for me. Always so good for me. God, when I saw you there, covered in blood, I wanted to fuck you right then and there. Wanted everyone to hear you scream my name.”

Taeyong feels his body shake, Johnny’s confession easily pushing him closer to the edge. Somehow knowing Johnny was turned on at the sight of him like that makes Taeyong burn and it’s enough to have him spilling, crying out shamelessly as his entire body convulses from the force of his orgasm.

“Johnny, Johnny. Johnny,” Taeyong chants, his moans high-pitched, willing for Johnny to fill him up, to paint his walls with his hot cum. 

Johnny cums with a loud moan that echoes off the walls of the study, emptying his load in Taeyong’s petite body, so much that he starts to spill past the abused hole, staining the carpet that’s already ruined with Taeyong’s release. He doesn’t pull out as he leans over Taeyong’s back, cock still pulsating within the smaller’s channel. Taeyong keens, content with staying this way, even though trying to even out his breathing is close to impossible. For a moment, it’s silent safe for their loud breathing.

Then, Johnny kisses his cheek, soft and unlike the man he was when he was fucking the brains out of Taeyong’s skull. “Do you understand now?”

Taeyong wonders if he does but his eyes are heavy and his brain is mush. He nods, still, dazed and fucked out and all the guilt and fear and confusion are gone, just the soft buzzing that came after his orgasm. And in his putty state, Taeyong could only rasp out an agreement. “I sin. I’m a sinner.”

“And you’re mine,” Johnny whispers, kissing over his shoulder. “You’re always be mine.”

He smiles, a little giddy, a little drowsy and slowly losing consciousness as he agrees yet again. 

“I am.”

* * *

It’s ironic, to be sitting in church, a week after he murdered someone and spent the rest of the night out cold after being pounded into like a bitch in heat. But here he is now, listening to a priest preach about guarding yourself from the demons that want access to your souls, a kind deed he decided he owed Doyoung, who had not very subtly asked Taeyong to accompany him.

The priest is a young man they were introduced to as Father Kun, dressed in black and standing up on the altar as he speaks animatedly to the audience, some fifty of them. He goes on and on about being closer to god and how when you let god in, there would be no space for the demons to reside.

Taeyong listens, eyes empty and he believes none of it.

He had never been a child of god, even when he was growing up. He skipped on mass by coming up with different kinds of excuses and at the dining table, Taeyong waited in silence as his parents prayed their gratitude for the food they get to eat. It was never a big deal; Taeyong just doesn’t have faith.

Perhaps, it’s too late, he thinks. The demon had found him anyway. That must be it, right? That must be the reason why he had found no difficulty or remorse in going about in his daily life, even though he had taken someone’s life just a week prior. Either that, or Taeyong had grown numb.

He doesn’t know which one terrifies him more.

An hour into the talk, Taeyong turns his head to look at Doyoung. “Can we go? I have to be somewhere later and I need time to prepare.”

Doyoung frowns. “Just another fifteen minutes, Yong.”

Taeyong sighs, rolling his eyes as his jaw clenches but he keeps the straight posture and the neutral expression so people would think he’s listening. He figures Doyoung deserves this at least, even if they do fight most of the time. It’s a wonder why Doyoung bothered staying, even after all this time. Still, even through the downside of their friendship, Taeyong would rather Doyoung be with him than gone.

The fifteen minutes Doyoung promised him dragged into twenty and then thirty and when Taeyong decides he’s had enough, Father Kun looks straight at him, with knowing eyes and hard lines framing his gaze. His question burns right through Taeyong’s skin.

“Will you pray tonight?” Father Kun asks, his smile kind. “Don’t let it consume you.”

Taeyong swallows but he nods his head, returning the smile. He feels hot suddenly, gluing himself to his seat for fear that he would bolt out the door and give the people a reason to question his faith. That would be entirely new topic to cover should the next reporter find interest in finding out his beliefs.

He’s sweating when it finally ends and everyone starts moving off their seats, some going up front to speak with Father Kun. Taeyong is quick to get up as well, clearing his throat as he walks out of the church. As soon as he steps out of the building, the relief he feels is instantaneous.

“Isn’t he great?” Doyoung asks once he catches up with Taeyong, the two of them making their way towards Taeyong’s yellow Porche. “He’s really well-known across the country. I heard he’s performed exorcisms and all that stuff.”

Taeyong makes a face at that, climbing into his car and waiting for Doyoung to join him before he speaks. “You believe in all that, Doie?”

“I mean,” Doyoung shrugs, stuffing the programme flyer into his bag just as Taeyong starts to drive. “It’s not the most ridiculous thing in the world, is it? Demons are real, God is real. I don’t doubt that possessions are real too.”

_ ‘It’s not the most ridiculous thing in the world, is it?’  _ Taeyong thinks about the portrait, more than half his face ruined now, and wonders if demons and exorcisms are considered normal when compared to what he had done. Is the portrait cursed? It isn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world.

* * *

“Your parents called this morning, by the way,” Doyoung is saying as Taeyong tries to towel dry his hair, having had a shower so he could start getting ready to meet Johnny. “They miss you.”

Taeyong scrunches up his nose, tossing his hair towel over his shoulder to grab the bottle of wine from the cabinet to pour himself a glass, leaving the bottle on the bar counter. “Sure, tell them I’ll deposit the money by the end of this week.”

Doyoung straightens up then from leaning against the kitchen island, a cookie in hand. “Did you hear what I just said, though? They don’t want your money, Yong. They wanna talk to their son.”

With a sigh, Taeyong takes a sip of his wine. “They didn’t wanna talk to their son when he was crying in his bedroom the entire night because the rest of the family thought he had a useless dream and wouldn’t make it far in life.”

“Oh, come on, Taeyong. It’s been two years. I’m sure they’re sorry for all of that.” Doyoung says as he finishes his cookie. “Will you call them and say hi at least?”

“I don’t know, Doyoung,” Taeyong stares at his friend, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe, if I remember. I’m busy. I have a few meetings and shoots this week. I’m meeting Johnny tonight.”

“You’re always meeting Johnny,” Doyoung scoffs, but Taeyong’s used to his bitterness that he doesn’t let it bother him. Doyoung adds, “You’re so different now, Taeyong. You’ve changed.”

Now that? That gets on his nerve. Taeyong finishes off his glass of wine, jaw clenched but he managed to flash a smile at Doyoung. “So have a lot of other people. Big news.”

“Taeyong, I’m serious.” Doyoung stops him as he tries to make a beeline for his room. “I don’t even know you anymore. You’re not the Taeyong I grew up with.”

“Doyoung,” Taeyong snaps back, wrenching his arm off his best friend’s hold. “That Taeyong you knew was fucking miserable. This Taeyong is happy. I don’t care that he’s gone. I don’t want to see him ever again. I thought you’d be happy and used to this version of me now.”

The lines around Doyoung’s eyes hardens as he frowns. “Well, I miss him.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Taeyong bites back, rolling his eyes before he makes his way to his room. 

Fighting Doyoung is growing increasingly tiring and frustrating. It has happened too many times for Taeyong to count, especially in the last two years since they came here to the city. If he had known that his success would make Doyoung this annoying, he would have insisted he come here alone, even if it means he might die from not knowing how to feed himself.

Angrily, Taeyong starts drying out his hair with the dryer. He’d kept his hair long, longer than he usually would, dyed blonde, just the way Johnny had said he liked it. Pleasing Johnny has always been such an accomplishment. There is no loss, not if making Johnny makes him happy. 

When his hair is finally dry, Taeyong puts on a simple make up before changing from his bathrobe into the outfit he had prepared beforehand. It’s then that he hears the grunts and huffs and puffs of someone moving about just outside his door. With a frown, Taeyong goes over and opens the door only to find Doyoung struggling to pull two large suitcases with him. When he spots Taeyong, Doyoung glares.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong asks, stepping out of the room to follow Doyoung to the door.

Doyoung grunts again, nearly dropping his suitcase. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.”

Taeyong panics, frowning as he automatically reaches out to pull the suitcase back, stopping his best friend. “What do you mean, you’re leaving? You can’t leave.”

“I’m tired, Taeyong,” Doyoung says exasperatedly and he looks like he might cry. “I’m tired of fighting you. I’m tired of your ways and your arrogance and the person you’ve become. I want the old Taeyong back. I want the Taeyong who goes out of his way to help people, the Taeyong who had a big dream and promised he won’t take advantage of it if his dreams come true. I don’t know you. I’m leaving.”

“W-wait,” Taeyong splutters, his heart picking up in a way that makes it harder to breathe, mind racing as he thinks of something to say. Anything to keep Doyoung here with him. They might have had their differences and Taeyong might have not have been very nice but he loves Doyoung. He really does. “Wait, Doyoung – Please. Please stay. Don’t leave.”

Doyoung sighs, his eyes glassy with tears and he clenches his jaw in the way that Taeyong knows means he’s holding himself back from shedding a tear. “I just… I don’t want to. It’s been hell for me here, Taeyong. You don’t care what I do here. You don’t even know I took up a job, do you? Yes, I got bored around here waiting for you to come home and sometimes you don’t step in here for weeks. I’m just done with you. I’m leaving. I won’t let you stop me.”

Taeyong blinks, drops of tears falling down his cheeks as he watches Doyoung curl his fingers around the handle of his suitcases and pulling them with him whilst he makes his way to the door. He feels everything all at once, instead of just sadness and regret. There is sadness and there is regret and there is guilt, but the farther Doyoung goes, the angrier Taeyong feels. It’s to the point that he’s breathing hard through his nose, his panic and rage driving his next moves.

He grabs the first thing he sees on the bar counter, which happens to be the wine bottle he had opened up just earlier. Doyoung bends over to grab his pair of shoes but it’s when he straightens up that Taeyong swings. He hits hard, hard enough to break the glass. The crashing sound of hard glass hitting skull rings out through the apartment and when Doyoung falls over with a pained cry, Taeyong straddles him, using the same bottle to strike at Doyoung’s face again and then again and then again.

Like that night he had taken Kathy’s life, Taeyong sees red. He sees red as he uses all his force to strike, until Doyoung’s face is cut up and he’s gasping, pushing Taeyong off but losing all the blood had weakened him and Taeyong had always been stronger. Taeyong is crying; he could feel the tears staining his cheeks, the way his nose is growing stuffy, could see the fear and betrayal and shock in Doyoung’s eyes as he struggles to break free. 

“No one leaves me,” Taeyong sobs as his strikes slowed to a stop, shaking his head and then getting off Doyoung’s lifeless body as he continues to cry, his body heaving, vision blurred. “No one leaves me.”

It’s only when he managed to calm his breathing that he takes note of the glass pieces on the floor, of the broken bottle on the floor next to him and the wine mixing with the blood that continues to trail out from Doyoung’s wounds. Sniffling, Taeyong moves with haste, washing his hands and his face and making sure his clothes are clean before he runs out of the apartment, locking the door behind him and then hopping into his car, all the while breathing hard with a thousand voices in his head.

He tries to tune it out as he drives out, tries to listen to the sounds of cars around him and not the way he’s breathing too hard. In his attempts to do so, Father Kun’s words ring out the loudest, triggering more of his tears as he sobs, Doyoung’s death finally sinking in. 

_ ‘Will you pray tonight? Don’t let it consume you.’ _

Had he known? Had he tried to remind Taeyong? It’s too late now, anyway. The demons Father Kun claimed to exist have consumed him long ago and Taeyong knows only one person who could make it go away.

_ Johnny. _

* * *

The door isn’t locked when Taeyong gets to the mansion, far off within the woods and away from the busy streets of the city. His fingers are trembling as he pushes the door open, eyes searching for a sign of Johnny inside and it’s the single whiff of smoke that tells him Johnny is home. 

He makes sure to close the door behind him, locking it out of habit and when he doesn’t find Johnny on the ground floor, Taeyong makes his way up the stairs. The lights in the bathroom are turned on, which means Johnny could be having a bath, presumably to get ready for their supposed date night. Taeyong’s chest hurts as his heart quickens in pace, both afraid and hopeful that Johnny would help him. He did before and even though Johnny didn’t tell him what he did with Kathy’s body, he has a fleeting hope that Johnny wouldn’t let him be sent to jail.

Johnny is seated on the floor when Taeyong pushes the bathroom door open, a lit cigarette between his lips and when he looks up, Taeyong gasps at the obvious signs of struggle that surround him. There are splashes of water all around, the tub filled up to the brim and bloodstains around the white lid of the bathtub and some on the stone floor. Unlike Doyoung’s, the blood is lighter in color, mixed with water.

“You were supposed to wait for me to pick you up,” Johnny says calmly, plucking the cigarette from between his lips and flicking his wrist to dry his wet fingers. 

Taeyong steps into the bathroom and sure enough, he finds a body within the tub, clearly dead. “What happened here? Johnny? Are you okay?”

Johnny clears his throat, inhaling another puff from the stick. At this point, the scent of tobacco is almost enough to erase the metallic smell of blood that clings to the air. “I’m okay, Taeyong. I have to clean this up. Why are you here early?”

Immediately, Taeyong is reminded of Doyoung’s dead body back in his apartment. “I… I did something terrible, Johnny. I did it again.”

There’s a frown on Johnny’s forehead then as he kills off the light of his cigarette by pressing it into the water in the tub, tossing it inside. “What did you do?”

“I – I killed him. I killed him, Johnny. He was going to leave me and I didn’t want him to leave and I killed him,” He starts sobbing, his knees buckling and if not for Johnny’s quick reflex, Taeyong would have hit the floor. 

Johnny cradles him within his arms, stroking at his hair. “Shh, it’s okay. You know we’ll take care of it, baby. We’re gonna be okay. Who did you kill, sweetheart, hm?”

With a sob, Taeyong presses his face into Johnny’s neck, fingers curling around the front of the older’s shirt. “Doyoung… He’s dead. I hit him. And then I kept hitting him. And now he’s dead.”

“Hey,” Johnny rocks him, trying to calm him down and get him to stop crying. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of it. You’ll help me, won’t you? Yuta used to help me but he can’t anymore.”

Taeyong frowns, tears still flowing down his cheeks.  _ Used to?  _ Does Johnny do it on a regular? And what did he mean Yuta used – The realization comes to him just as quickly. He gasps as he pulls away from Johnny but only so he could take a peek inside the tub. There, lying face down, is a familiar figure and the same mob of red hair Taeyong could recognize anywhere. 

“Yuta?!” He gasps again, looking at Johnny. 

Johnny shrugs. “He didn’t want to help me clean up my messes anymore. I had to get rid of him.”

It takes a long moment for Taeyong to let it sink in. Yuta had been a good friend but to tell Johnny off for it would be hypocritical of him; he did just murder his own best friend, a person he had once thought of as the light at the end of the tunnel. He lets himself fall back onto his behind, stunned but also terrifyingly numb. Is this what he has come to be? A murderer with no remorse, no guilt?

Is this what Johnny had always been?

“You can stay here while I clean up your apartment,” Johnny says as he rises to his feet. “I’ll bring the body and we can bury them together.”

Taeyong watches as Johnny goes to wash his hands and rolls his sleeves down. He looks into the mirror as he fixes his hair, slicking the black strands back and once appearing casual, as if he hadn’t just murdered someone in his own home. Taeyong clears his throat, “Where could we do that?”

Johnny’s gaze finds his through the reflection, smiling before he turns and leans down to kiss the top of Taeyong’s head. “Don’t worry, darling. I know what to do. You stay here and make sure no one comes into the house. Stay downstairs if you don’t want to stay with him.”

Glancing back at Yuta, he feels somewhat guilty at the idea of leaving him here alone so he shakes his head. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Okay,” Johnny nods, “I’ll be back soon. If I don’t return by midnight, I want you to leave the house, okay? You can’t be here when they come searching.”

With that and another kiss pressed to Taeyong’s forehead, Johnny caresses his cheek before he’s walking out of the bathroom. Taeyong is just slightly shaken, though not for the fact that they are going to be burying two of their  _ friends _ when Johnny gets back but more for the idea that Johnny might get caught and not return to him.

He rubs at his shoulders and, without thinking, Taeyong shifts to turn Yuta’s body over, so that he’s facing up at the ceiling instead of down. Taeyong stares at his face and there are tears in Taeyong’s eyes and as they dropped down his cheeks, he reaches down and strokes Yuta’s hair back.

“It’s okay,” He whispers as he sniffles, free hand wiping at his cheeks. “Johnny will take care of us.”

_ Johnny will always take care of us _ .

* * *

Thunder booms across the night sky as Taeyong shoves the shovel he’s been handed to into the wet soil, digging them out to make a hole in the ground. Johnny, in front of him, digs another. 

They’d pulled both the bodies into the woods behind Johnny’s mansion, a little deeper within the trees and it had started raining the moment Johnny had handed him the shovel. It isn’t practical and Taeyong has always hated the mud but they couldn’t leave the bodies out in the open. He couldn’t see properly and his eyes sting from crying and from how he tries hard to blink away the rain water.

He’s growing a little tired too but Johnny isn’t stopping, even though the hole he is digging has gone much deeper than Taeyong’s. Lightning strikes, flashing across the sky for a millisecond followed by another thunder and the rain grow heavier. Taeyong pauses momentarily, glancing back at the two friends now on the wet ground, rain pounding on the blankets covering them. He clenches his jaw and hopes someday they would forgive him. 

The loud smack of metal against the soft, mushy soil brings Taeyong’s attention back to Johnny, who had dropped his shovel and is reaching out to take the one in Taeyong’s hands. Johnny looks in disarray, wet clothes clinging to his toned physique and the thin material allowing Taeyong a glimpse of his nipples, his black hair wet and matted to his forehead. As much as he’s too far gone when it comes to what is morally right or wrong, Taeyong still has the decency to think it’s just sick to find Johnny so attractive at a time like this.

Johnny seems to notice Taeyong staring because then he lifts his gaze to meet his and then he’s laughing. “Maybe you should put one of them in that hole first before you fuck me with your eyes, Taeyong.”

Heat spreads at his cheeks. It’s so surreal, to be blushing while being ordered to bury someone into the ground. His own hair is sticking to his face no matter how many times he’d pushed the strands back. He makes a mental note to get a trim, if he makes it out of tonight alive.

With all the strength he could muster, Taeyong goes over to the heap of bodies before pulling the blanket off. For some odd reason, seeing Doyoung’s face staring up at him makes Taeyong flinch, just a little. He’s glad Johnny doesn’t notice and he doesn’t pull Doyoung’s lifeless form without draping the blanket back around him. Grunting from added weight of the water that’s made Doyoung’s clothes heavier, he drags his body by his feet, all the way over until it reaches the hole, where he then gives a push to the body and watches as if falls into the dug ground. 

He looks up to find Johnny doing the same with Yuta’s body and when Johnny begins burying him with the soil, Taeyong mirrors him. They get to work, filling up the holes until there are no more traces of the ground being dug up, besides the obvious patches that Johnny covers up with fallen tree branches, making sure to arrange it in a way that isn’t too visible, even though Taeyong doubts anyone is coming into this part of the woods, seeing as the only access would be through Johnny’s driveway.

The rain had slowed down into soft drizzles by the time Johnny pulls Taeyong with him, back to the mansion. Taeyong tries not to look back but he does anyway, wide eyes and racing heart and hoping both Yuta and Doyoung could hear his goodbyes. It’s his final ones.

At the mansion, he helps Johnny clean up the shovels, keeping them in the shed behind the house before they take a shower together, where Johnny kisses him, fierce and hungry, as if to tell him that it doesn’t matter what they do, just as long as they have each other. After, when they are dried up and Taeyong is wearing one of Johnny’s hoodies, they sat in his balcony, looking up at the stars and the moon. 

He’s seated between Johnny’s legs, back pressed up against the older’s chest with his head resting against Johnny’s shoulder. When he closes his eyes, the scent of Johnny’s lemon body wash is strong, laced lightly with the bitter pricks of the smoke that he puffs out, cigarette between his lips. 

“Are they going to arrest us, Johnny?” Taeyong asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

Johnny exhales, smoke billowing around them. “No, sweetheart. We’ll be okay. They’re never going to find out.”

Taeyong nods, and for about another ten minutes, there is only silence, safe for the soft humming of music Johnny had put on from the turntable, playing one of his classic vinyl. He’s exhausted, to say the least and everything that had happened today feels like a horrible, horrible nightmare. He’s about to drift off into slumber when he sees Yuta’s face behind closed lids.

“How did you kill Yuta?” He asks suddenly, but Johnny stays calm.

“I hit him a little too hard,” He says, clearing his throat and then finishing off his cigarette before he lays it down in the ashtray. “I didn’t plan for that to happen.”

Taeyong frowns, “So it was an accident?”

“No, no,” Johnny shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Taeyong’s cheek. “I didn’t think to kill him when he came over, honestly. But then he told me he doesn’t want to help me anymore, promised me he would shut up about it, but I don’t trust anyone but you.”

Lips pursed, Taeyong turns his head to meet Johnny’s eyes. “So you killed him to shut him up?”

Johnny’s gaze is steely, almost cold and he doesn’t look at Taeyong. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty but he was struggling and I hit him and his head hit the wall. I was just going to drown him.”

Instead of questioning him even further, Taeyong fails to find the need to. He looks up at the stars and wonders how they had come to be like this. “He isn’t the first person you’ve killed, is he?”

“No,” Johnny says with a chuckle and somehow it makes Taeyong laugh too. “No, he wasn’t. The first person I killed was my sister. She was being a spiteful little bitch, broke my camera because I wouldn’t take a picture of her and her precious boyfriend.”

Taeyong scoffs, “Had it coming.”

Johnny laughs and then he’s guiding Taeyong’s face towards him before his large fingers curl around his throat, lips pressing against Taeyong’s parted ones. “This is why I love you.”

It’s such a simple gesture, such a brief kiss, but Taeyong feels like putty. He smiles almost giddily against Johnny’s mouth. “I love you too. Can I ask you one more question, Johnny?”

“Anything.”

Taeyong swallows, brushing his nose over Johnny’s affectionately. “How did you know about the… The magic portrait? How do you know about the wishes and the consequences?”

“I thought you’d know by now I’m no ordinary man, Taeyong,” Johnny says but not with any real bite to his words, though Taeyong finds himself believing everything he says. “I knew a man who made me rich, and now I’ve made you rich. Does anything else matter?”

_ No, _ Taeyong thinks. Nothing else matters. He has no guilt, just love. He has no remorse or any kind of regret about leaving home, just happy that he’s here. And if Johnny is just like him then… Then Taeyong would never be alone. He would never be alone. He would always have Johnny.

And that, to Taeyong, is all that matters.

* * *

Taeyong learns later in life that his rage and jealousy, when put together, is a dangerous combination. In the next three years, Doyoung wasn’t the last body Taeyong buried though over the course of time, he doesn’t end up shaking or in tears each time he watches someone’s life leave their eyes. It isn’t something to be proud of, but Taeyong has grown emotionally and the last time he had been angry and jealous, the girl’s death had been quick, ended with just a flick of Taeyong’s wrist.

He didn’t flinch.

The same could be said for Johnny. He gets even more possessive, even more jealous and when he’s angry, Taeyong finds it rather arousing. Johnny is rarely angry at him, even when it’s Taeyong that gets close to another male just to get a reaction out of his boyfriend. He learns, a realization he had while he’s impaled upon Johnny’s cock, that he absolutely loves and gets off to the idea that Johnny wants him just as badly as he wants Johnny, that Johnny would  _ kill _ to lay his claim on Taeyong.

There is nothing better than feeling wanted and needed. Taeyong lives and he thinks he lives greatly. He has the wealth, he has youth, he has beauty, and he has millions of people who tell him every day that they either hate him or want to be him and it’s the attention that he likes, the attention that he lives for. In addition to that, Taeyong doesn’t ever need to care for anything else except what he likes. 

His parents call, sometimes, but most of the time Taeyong isn’t even back in his apartment so their calls are left on voicemail. They ask for Doyoung and they tell him Doyoung’s parents are asking for Doyoung and they keep asking, so much that Taeyong eventually sat down and wrote a letter to Doyoung’s parents to tell them never to call Taeyong again, with a reason that they had a falling out, which would explain why Doyoung no longer lives there.

It didn’t stop immediately but eventually, even his parents stopped ringing.

When it comes to the portrait, however… It has gotten to a point where looking at his own photo repulsed him. It’s no longer just half destroyed, but his face in it had gone completely mangled, burned and ruined, so badly that even Taeyong couldn’t recognize himself in the portrait. Eventually, he had Johnny carry it to store in the shed, covered with a white cloth and then abandoned.

It’s unsettling, to say the least, which seems ironic, for someone who has ended multiple lives, sometimes with his own bare hands. He’d often wondered why the sight of his own charred face keeps him up at night and not the screams he’d heard hours before he’d settled into bed, face pressed into Johnny’s chest and wishing the image of his portrait would leave his head.

Johnny has his own fair share of sins, Taeyong knows. There are no secrets between them, not even when Johnny seduces someone just for the fun of it, so he could watch Taeyong unleash his unhealthy amount of rage on the victim and they would fuck after the deed is done. Sometimes, most of the time, Johnny has Taeyong bent over and he would let Johnny fuck his brains out. 

Personally, Taeyong loves it. At times, however, he likes being in control. Like right now, naked from the waist down, he has his head thrown back and lips slightly parted as he uses Johnny’s cock to get off. He’s filthy with mud after digging up another grave to bury the body they’d carried home, subtle bloodstains on his fingers and arms and Johnny had kissed him filthily the moment he’d finished filling the hole with the soil he’d dug out.

They’d moved with haste and an urgency he couldn’t explain with words, driven by hunger and lust to consume each other and he barely notices just how he’d straddled Johnny’s hips and starts fucking himself on the older’s cock. Johnny’s hands grip at Taeyong’s hips, grunting and moaning and Taeyong whines as he rakes his nails down Johnny’s muscled chest. 

“So good, baby,” Johnny moans, breathless as he keeps his eyes on Taeyong’s face. “You’re always so fucking tight.”

Taeyong smiles, pleased with the fact that he makes Johnny feel good, that he’s the one, the only one, Johnny is fucking. He slows down in the rolls of his hips, leaning over to mouth along Johnny’s sharp jawline as he whispers against his skin. “Want you to fill me up, get me so full I’m spilling all over your cock. You’re so good to me, Johnny. I love you. God, I love you.”

Johnny laughs as he sits up whilst Taeyong continues to bounce upon his shaft. He licks into Taeyong’s mouth and swallows his moans, large palms splayed over Taeyong’s back as he keeps him close and against the smaller’s jaw, Johnny whispers. “I love you too. Will you let me fuck you now, baby? Hm? Wanna get down on your hands and knees so I can claim your pussy?”

He whines, nodding his head eagerly as he grows needy for Johnny’s dominance, eager to be used and manhandled and tossed around like he’s nothing more than just a fuck doll. “Yes, please. Fuck me.”

It takes Johnny a second to move Taeyong, shifting him so his knees and hands are buried into the wet ground and he doesn’t waste time pushing back into Taeyong’s stretched hole. Taeyong cries out at the penetration and continues to whine as Johnny fucks into him, fingers curling into the soil and he could feel dirt going under his nails, could feel the way the ground cuts at his knees but nothing matters, not as long as Johnny is ramming into him and not as long as it feels too good for him to care.

“Fuck! Oh my god, Johnny.  _ Fuck fuck fuck.  _ Right there, please. Please, please, please.” Taeyong sobs, eyes rolled back as he feels Johnny’s monstrous cock continue to stretch him out, each thrust reaching depths he didn’t think possible and it doesn’t matter that it isn’t the first time; Taeyong could never get tired of having Johnny’s shaft buried inside him. 

Johnny’s thrusts are relentless, growing sloppy as he pounds into Taeyong’s ass. He grunts and moans as he leans over the smaller’s back, nipping at his earlobe before he straightens up and pulls Taeyong with him, with a hand around his throat while his hips continue snapping forward. “Always so good for me, baby. Tell me how much you love my cock. Go on. Tell me who you belong to.”

Taeyong absolutely trembles at the words Johnny uttered to him in addition to the pressure he puts in squeezing his throat, enough for it to be hard to breathe. His eyes roll back, lips parted as his body jostled forward with every thrust Johnny delivers. “F-fuck. I love your cock. I love your cock so, so much. I want it inside me all the time. Please. I’m yours. Just yours. Please… Want your cum.”

His words must have triggered something in Johnny, if the way his thrusts faltered and then picked up at a quicker, more merciless pace is any indication. Johnny doesn’t say anything as he pushes him back down, cheek pressed into the dirt and when he’s fucked rough into the ground, all Taeyong could do is take it. He takes it and he takes it until he’s convulsing just as he hits his climax and simultaneously Johnny spills within his channel. Their moans are loud but are quickly drowned out by the thunder that crashes, a sign that they would soon be drenched in rain.

And they do. Taeyong thinks it’s  _ romantic _ . 

Never mind the fact that they’re covered in filth, in mud and cum and sweat and rain. Never mind the fact that just a few feet away, Taeyong had just buried a man for thinking he had a chance to win over Johnny’s heart, even though he knows it was Johnny that planted the hope in the poor, stupid man’s mind, just so he could watch Taeyong lash out. Never mind the fact that his life is fucked up.

Being here, in the rain, with Johnny kissing along his shoulder, is what makes him happy.

* * *

Does happiness last, though? Taeyong often wonders. 

For over two decades, he lives a life with no rules. Like a child whose only purpose is to wake up every day, go to school, play and play and play until it’s time for bed. Except Taeyong loves his job and he doesn’t feel the same dread he felt when he was still going to school. His success is unfaltering and he sells for the companies he signs with and because of the numbers he had helped gain, many more companies fought to get his signature on their brand.

And it helps. God, it helps that his youth and beauty are everlasting. He hasn’t aged a day since the night he had made that wish. There are no lines at the corners of his eyes or his mouth, not a single sign that he had even gone past the age of twenty-three. Twenty years it had been since he had left the town and stepped into the city, twenty years since he met Johnny for the first time. 

His promise of eternity makes him feel powerful.

But does happiness last? He wishes he had included an eternal happiness when he had stared up at his own face and looked into his own eyes when he made the wish that changed his life.

It’s odd sometimes, when he looks in the mirror and he sees the face of a man in his early twenties when he had truthfully lived for over forty years. He feels the length of it when he’s lying in bed at night and realizes that there would be, in average, about sixty more years to live. Sixty more years to reach a hundred, sixty more years of looking forever young. He wonders if his life would end at all.

He wonders, if his life goes on, where would he be? Where would Johnny be? It’s the thought of Johnny that terrifies him. Johnny is human, like he is human, but Johnny is human in the way that he isn’t and Johnny is aging and even if Taeyong doesn’t die, then Johnny would. What would he do then?

To imagine a life without Johnny, Taeyong realized, isn’t something he would ever want.

Johnny, being six years older, is nearing his fifties and while he isn’t any less attractive, Taeyong could already see the age catching up to him. It scares him the way nothing else had ever scared him before. In the quiet of the night, while Johnny sleeps and Taeyong is pressed close against his side, he stares up at Johnny’s beautiful face and wishes he would stay with him forever.

Forever just doesn’t happen for everyone, and Johnny isn’t an exception. 

The true problem arises when Johnny, even through his confessions of love for Taeyong to this day, says the one thing that makes Taeyong question if Johnny returns his love equally. It isn’t always; in fact, it had never been like this. Johnny makes him feel loved and wanted and needed. Johnny makes him feel important and seen. Johnny makes him feel as if he’s the sun and Johnny revolves around him. 

So why is it that the moment some random person commented on how Taeyong seemed to be stuck in age Johnny proposes something Taeyong would never in a million years think of?

“You want me to  _ what?! _ ” Taeyong snaps, rising to his feet from where he was seated on Johnny’s couch in his living room. “Johnny, that’s fucking ridiculous. Do you hear yourself?”

Johnny sighs, running a palm down his face. “They’re going to notice, Taeyong. You do know that these people are smart, don’t you? You haven’t aged a day, baby. Jaehyun is younger than you and he looks his age. Don’t you get it?”

“But that’s the fucking point, Johnny!” He bites back. “You made me wish for this. You convinced me it’s what I want. You didn’t think before you seduced me that this is gonna be a problem twenty years later? God, fuck you.”

Johnny, always the calmer one between them, merely lights up a cigarette but Taeyong knows from the way his fingers shake that Johnny is afraid. “I just… need you to lay low for a while. I don’t know, maybe not go out in public until we’re sure they aren’t going to do any more than wonder why you look the same as twenty years ago.”

“Really, Johnny?” Taeyong scoffs, feeling somewhat deceived because they had spent all this time with Johnny making sure Taeyong is out in the world, visible and known and  _ free _ . Now he wants to take that all away? “I can’t believe you’re freaking out about this. It’s fucking 2900, anything is possible. Who cares if they think I’m not aging? You can’t keep me from going out there.”

The older’s jaw clenches as he inhales the cigarette deeply, puffing out a great amount of smoke as he starts to pace. “You don’t understand, Taeyong. Just… Please. Stay inside for the time being. Or out of the city. Maybe it’s time you visit your parents.”

Taeyong laughs, humourless as he circles around Johnny. “My parents are dead to me, Johnny. Why are you scared? I’ve never seen you scared. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Taeyong, listen,” Johnny clears his throat, killing of the lit end of the cigarette and curling his hands around each of Taeyong’s arms. This close, the aging lines on Johnny’s face are clearer. “People are saying they’re going to hire a fucking priest to investigate. You have enemies, baby. You know that. There are so many people out there who are jealous of you. I wouldn’t be surprised some of them would do anything to make sure your time ends.”

It just doesn’t add up. Taeyong is beyond confused and it shows in the way he frowns at Johnny but he tries a newer, calmer approach. He cups Johnny’s cheeks, smiling at him softly as he speaks. “Baby, you’re being paranoid, okay? No one is out to get me. And even if they are, I know you’ll protect me, won’t you? You always do.”

“No,” Johnny shakes his head. “Not this time, as much as I want to, as hard as I will try to. You know I love you, sweetheart. You know more than anyone. Some of these people – They know about the portrait. What it does, at least. It’s magic we really shouldn’t be touching. So, please, trust me. Just lay low. Stay here with me. Or out of the city. That would be safer for you.”

Everything Johnny had said translated to one thing to Taeyong, the one ugly trait he’s had his entire life, and that is Johnny actually growing tired of him. His jealousy and possessiveness would one day kill him, Taeyong thinks. He clenches his jaw, fuming. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“What?” Johnny frowns, laughing in disbelief. “Did you not hear a single word I said?”

“I heard you loud and clear –”

“Then why are you thinking that?”

“Because it just sounds like you want me gone!” Taeyong yells. “Everything you’ve said sounds like bullshit to me. They’re not going to get me and you have no right to cage me like this. I’m not going to hide. My life is out there. My career is out there.”

Johnny exhales deeply, his own set of jaw clenched so hard Taeyong thinks he might actually break them. “Okay, then leave the country. Every country now is closed off from the world. No one out there knows who you are. You can start anew. The portrait holds your true age, you’d never grow old. Go, if you don’t want to stay.”

Taeyong frowns. “Are you coming with me…?”

“I can’t,” Johnny shakes his head again, looking sad and heartbroken. “I told you what I’ve seen what’s out there. I’m never going to leave this country.”

Anger bubbles up in Taeyong’s chest, coupled with the helpless feeling of being abandoned and discarded, in complete disbelief that this is how Johnny decides to end their twenty something years of relationship. “Fuck you, Johnny. You made me this way. I’m fucking cursed because of you and now you want me to leave? Fuck you.”

“I didn’t think we’d make it this far!” Johnny lashes out. “I’ll be honest with you, Taeyong. I convinced you to make that wish only because I wanted to be released from my curse. I had so many guilt, I got tired of being young, I got tired of being alive. It’s fucking lonely. The only way I could go back is to pass it on to someone else. And you were so eager, so young. You had big dreams, I knew from the moment I saw you that you’d be easy to convince.”

Taeyong blinks, failing to fully register just what Johnny is telling him. His fingers are shaking, his heart filled with a mix of emotions that are driven by the way his mind races. “What are you saying, Johnny? How old were you when we met then?”

Johnny is a silent for a moment, rubbing at his temples as if Taeyong had just given him the worst headache. “When we met? Over two hundred.”

“Johnny…” Taeyong gasps, stepping back as a natural reaction. “All this time and you – You passed it on to  _ me?  _ You made me wish on a stupid fucking portrait and cursed me to this life because you got tired living yours?”

“I didn’t plan to fall in love with you,” Johnny explains, meeting Taeyong’s gaze and looking defeated. “I was going to leave you, after a year or two. But I guess my own curse is falling in love with you and watch you suffer the same fate I did, while I grow old.”

His vision is blurred by the tears that pooled in his eyes, falling down his cheeks when he blinks. Taeyong couldn’t breathe. Everything he had just been told feels like a nightmare but no matter how hard he wills himself to wake up, he’s still just there. Awake. “You didn’t think to tell me earlier? You just… went on all these years without telling me the truth?”

Johnny’s silence is longer this time and he refuses to meet Taeyong’s gaze again. He merely stares down at his feet, jaw clenching as he leans back against the wall. After, he whispers quietly. “I’m sorry. I was selfish. And afraid. I didn’t have the heart to tell you that you couldn’t have this forever without facing the consequences. You were just so happy and then you had your first kill and I knew it was too late. Even if you’ve passed it on to others, you’d have to face your own kind of punishment. 

“And I love you, Taeyong. I really do. I can’t watch you suffer.” Johnny straightens up, shaking his head and stepping closer to Taeyong. He raises a hand that he uses to caress the younger’s face, and Taeyong couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “I’m selfish, I know that. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll go. Live. As long as it takes.”

Taeyong looks away as he steps back once again, unable to fight off the tears that are steadily streaming down his face. It’s all his fears crashing down on him all at once; everything he was scared of after starting this new life happening too suddenly. Maybe he was naïve for trusting Johnny when he’d barely known him, when he had so easily let himself succumb to the pleasures of his dreams that he didn’t think of what would happen in the future. Johnny hadn’t even known they would fall in love, but Taeyong had known from the moment he set eyes on Johnny that what he felt was love.

So, really, can he blame Johnny entirely? Can he blame Johnny for wanting to be free of this cursed life and choosing the next person he finds that is stupid enough to fall for it? No, he couldn’t blame Johnny completely, not when he would have done the same thing.

Still, his rage has always been something out of his control and while it was fun and games before, taking the lives of those people for their own pleasure, this time all his anger is directed at the source of his love, the one person he wanted, the one person who had loved him. 

He tries to even his breathing, to be less obvious that he’s enraged, even though his face is already drenched with his own tears, both from anger and sadness. He walks off, wiping furiously at his face and there are only two things that are clear in his head; Johnny had ruined his life and Johnny had used him, no matter the reason and the excuses. Johnny used him, caged him, made him into this person.

Now all Taeyong sees is red.

Johnny follows, as Taeyong expected him to. He calls after the younger, repeatedly so, but Taeyong ignores him, making his way over from the lounge room to the main living space where he remembered distinctly sitting on that very couch after he killed his first victim.

This is where they have sat for countless of nights, warmed by the fire lit in the fireplace through winter storms and made love over and over again. Nights where it feels normal, where all memories of his scarlet fury and the people that fell victim to it were non-existent and it was as though they were just two people madly in love. Taeyong had never regretted killing those people, something inside him that he now thinks is the curse prevents him from feeling remorse or guilt. 

But now, in this moment, he wonders what could have been had he not fallen for Johnny’s charms, what could have been if Johnny had picked someone else. Would they have met anyway? Would they have fallen in love? Would they still be in this manor, perhaps enjoying a glass of wine to celebrate two decades of love? Would he have been a softer, kinder soul as he had been when he was young?

Taeyong wouldn’t know and there is no other way to ever find out. They are here now, Taeyong a murderous old soul and Johnny a lying, deceiving and selfish prick. Deep down in his heart, Taeyong knows Johnny would always be more than just that; Johnny is the love of his life and he would always be the love of his life. Right now Taeyong just doesn’t think Johnny should get away with it.

“Taeyong?” Johnny tries again, stopping just short behind Taeyong, who had stood in front of the fireplace, in search for warmth. “I’m sorry.”

He breathes in and exhales quietly. Johnny’s familiar smoke scent is stronger than the lemon body wash he never stopped using. Even after this many years, it’s the one thing Taeyong never fails to notice. Johnny and the way he smells, how just from knowing he’s close is enough to calm Taeyong down. His eyes burn when he closes them, unable to help the sob that leaves his parted lips because the amount of sadness his heart carries weighs him down so heavily. 

When his eyes open again, the first thing he sees is the diamond cut bowl that holds the matches to light up the fireplace. It sparks something in him that burns stronger than the sting of his heartbreak, a crimson rage that had driven him to do many unspeakable things over the last couple of decades. 

He evens his breathing, keeping his silence as he slowly reaches for the bowl. Its weight is heavy in his hand and it’s odd to know that he’s never touched it this entire time. Why else would there be a bowl made of diamonds in Johnny’s home if not for a perfectly made weapon?

“I hope you can forgive me,” Johnny is saying. “But if you can’t find that in you, I understand. I really do. You can do whatever you want. I just didn’t want them to find out and then hurt you. I don’t think I’m physically capable of watching you get hurt.”

Was that supposed to soften him? Taeyong wonders quietly. If it was then it isn’t working. Maybe it’s unjust to disregard everything Johnny had said, but could he really blame himself for not trusting Johnny when the man had lied to him for too long?

He sighs then, staring at the bowl in his hand. Its edges are sharp and Johnny must not have seen him take it because he isn’t asking any questions. Taeyong swallows, heart beating fast against his chest. The fringes of his hair are held back by the shades he’d pulled up on his head and quietly, Taeyong counts his breaths. In, out, in, out.

“Where is the Johnny I knew before?” He asks, sounding surprisingly calm, even to himself, and he doesn’t turn to look at the other. “Have you grown soft too? Is the age weighing down on you, Johnny?”

“Maybe,” Johnny murmurs. “I don’t know. You know the truth now so there’s nothing I can do to make you stay, is there? I only wanted you to lay low for your safety. I’d protect you, if you let me. I love you, Taeyong. I’m not leaving unless you want me to.”

Taeyong hums. His stomach churns in the most uneasy way and he clenches his jaw if only so he could stop himself from crying again. There’s a minute of silence, and then he says, “I love you too, Johnny.”

Johnny sighs in relief, subtle but there. He stays silent to let Taeyong continue so Taeyong continues.

“I love you,” Taeyong says, sniffling as another tear rolls down his cheek. “But I’m angry at you. I feel lied to and betrayed and abandoned. You’re going to leave me eventually, and I don’t want to put this burden on anyone else. You’ve left me all alone, Johnny. If I continue to live, you’re making me watch you die. You’ve sentenced me to sit by your side when you’re on your deathbed, just waiting for death to take you. And I would. I don’t care how old you are, I don’t care how you look like, you’re the love of my life. But I don’t think I can bear the pain of watching you go, not then, not when I love you again and I’ve forgiven you for everything you’ve done and made me do.”

There’s a brief touch to his elbow, Johnny’s gentle caress that Taeyong could feel against his skin even though they did not make contact. “What are you saying, baby?”

“I’m saying sorry,” Taeyong whispers, turning around slowly to meet Johnny’s gaze one last time. He loves him. God, he loves him. He leans up then, to press a kiss to Johnny’s lips and he feels himself melt into Johnny’s arms when the older returns the liplock. It’s soft and warm and for the first time, Johnny’s lips taste like honey, soft like his pretty, brown eyes. 

When they part, Johnny’s large palm curls around the side of Taeyong’s face. His eyes are sad and his thumb brushes across Taeyong’s full, lower lips. “What are you apologizing for?”

He looks up in Johnny’s eyes and Taeyong thinks he would rather feel all the pain now than later, when Johnny is gone for good and he’s left to roam the world all on his own. He kisses Johnny once more and when he pulls away, his eyes open slowly as he whispers, “For this.”

What accompanies his words is the swing of his arm, hitting the side of Johnny’s skull using the sharp edge of the bowl he had been holding and it’s hard enough to have Johnny out cold even before he meets the floor. There’s a loud crack of bones that came before the thud of his body falling, a sound coming from when his neck hits the edge of the table and Taeyong knows without looking that Johnny is dead.

When he does look, Johnny lays on the floor unmoving, eyes closed and blood dripping from where the bowl had cut into his skull. Even in death, Johnny looks regal. Like a king, dead in his own home.

Johnny is dead.

Taeyong wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of losing him later, when his heart is soft again and there is no more anger burning at his skin. Johnny is dead and now it’s time for Taeyong to find his peace.

* * *

He didn’t bury Johnny like he had everyone else he had ever killed. Instead he spent an hour dragging Johnny up the stairs, up into the room they shared and dressed Johnny in the same suit Johnny wore the first time they met after he cleaned up his wound. He made sure there were no more blood before he lays him down in the middle of the bed and laid next to him until the sun rose up, high in the sky.

In the morning, Taeyong went into the abandoned shed and carried out his portrait to hang it up by the wall in the main hall of the mansion. The entire picture is ruined, not a single sign that he was even in it if not for the sliver of skin that disappears within the shirt he was wearing that day of the first shooting.

It had been nearly a decade since Johnny had died, an hour since he had thrown the vase at his portrait, a minute since he had allowed his eyes to open again. He feels hopeless and insignificant. There is no purpose. He couldn’t find a way to rid himself of his curse and he hadn’t exactly tried. He had spent over ten years unseen and in hiding, mostly staying in the mansion until it stops feeling like home. 

More than anything, he’s afraid if he leaves the house then he might harm someone else. And no one else deserves to die more than he. 

He’s dressed in one of Johnny’s clothes, the one that still smells like him only because Taeyong has been buying and using the same lemon body wash Johnny used to, though now it reeks of the vodka he had spilled down the front of the hoodie. As he tries to get back onto his feet, he hears the thunder crash and soon after, rain begins to pelt down the roof of the manor, hitting against the windows and casting a shadow within the house. 

He sways in his steps, clutching onto the railing as he carries himself up the stairs. He had left Johnny hours ago and it must be dark now, since the power had shut down eight years ago and the sun is hidden behind dark clouds. Night would fall soon and he had spent every night since the night Johnny died lighting up the candles in their room for some light before he goes to bed. 

Once inside, Taeyong is greeted with the familiar stench of something rotten. It had been years but the stink never left. He isn’t fazed though he acknowledges it, closing the door behind him to turn on the battery-operated air purifier he had bought not too long after Johnny passed. Immediately the lemon scent of Johnny’s body wash fills the room, bringing Taeyong the sense of comfort and home. He goes over to the window, where he placed the candles before quietly lighting them up. The room lights up with the dimmed light from the fire but Taeyong shivers from the cold. 

Still, he smiles at the flame flickering, melting wax that’s begun to stick to the top of the drawer. It’s darker somehow, so Taeyong lights up another stick. 

Johnny doesn’t look like Johnny anymore but a skeletal remains of what he used to be. It doesn’t bother Taeyong, however. He crawls into bed and lays himself next to Johnny’s bony form, pressing himself close to the male’s side and sighing as he closes his eyes. No one ever came to look for them, though news articles had reportedly featured the big question of where the famous photographer and his model could have been to. 

Lightning strikes once again, followed by a loud thunder that makes Taeyong snuggle closer to Johnny. He realizes just how tired he is with his eyes closed like this, sleep calling for him to give in, to surrender himself to the land of dreams but Taeyong’s afraid of waking up.

He jumps when the lightning strikes again and this time it hits straight against the windowsills, knocking over the candles he had placed just close to it. He watches as the candles fall and immediately the carpeted floor catches fire. He flinches at first but feels nothing else but the initial shock of it. He’s too tired, though. Even as the fire starts to spread, crawling up the curtains and burning at the wooden drawers, Taeyong’s eyes are too heavy, his muscles feel like stone. 

What’s the point of trying to stop it anyway? Taeyong is exhausted, even though he hadn’t lived half as long as Johnny had. He had already lost everything. It would be a blessing to have it end here, free of his curse, free of being stuck alone. 

As heat spreads around the room and the smoke makes Taeyong cough, he looks down at Johnny’s face, still beautiful, even though he’s nothing more than bones. He brushes Johnny’s cheekbone with the back of his hand and he smiles down at the man he loves, the man he would always love. There is calmness in his chest now, knowing whether or not there is heaven or hell, he would meet Johnny again on the other side. 

He presses a kiss onto Johnny’s temple before he sinks down and rests his head upon Johnny’s shoulder, eyes closing as fire starts to engulf the entire room. The creaking sounds of burning wood reminds him of the night he laid awake in Johnny’s arms, naked next to the fireplace and it’s the only thing he heard besides the steady thrum of Johnny’s heartbeat. It feels eerily similar because just as he was about to fall asleep, he could hear Johnny’s heart drumming against his ear.

His eyes open and he looks up at Johnny’s face, surprised by what he had heard. Of course, Johnny is still dead and Taeyong is still here, letting the fire consume the house while he laid in bed with the one he wished to have forever. The portrait is magic, he thinks as his skin starts to burn. It has to be, if it had granted all that he had wished for. To be young, to be beautiful, to have Johnny, for all eternity.

A screams rips out of his chest as he starts to burn in the fire, undoubtedly having spread through the entire house. There is pain and the sound of his sizzling skin. There is Johnny smiling at him, reaching a hand out for him to take. 

_ Forever, forever, forever. _

And then there is nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> to those who decided to read this, thank you! to the prompter, I tried not to make Johnny too toxic as you had stated so I hope this is okay!


End file.
